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Iuniversity of California. 


Received October, 1894. 
kxessioffs No,^^$S^' CIms No. , ^ __. 


IprwioHS ^t0nts. 





W^ 3Utisttittm ^flWliftss^ f rnsf ani ^tm. 




••And the fonndatlons of the -waif 3 i> 1 »f •ity were garniihed with all 
manner of precious itones.** 



Ung to Aet of CoofN 

Cmtbkxb aMOrdiiig to Aet of CooftMi, in tho yvar 1851, lij 


b tba Otork'M Oflke of tho DlMrkt Coort of the UniUd StetM lor tba Sootkna Dbtotel of 
. Noir York. 

W. H. TiJiwai, Stmotjpw. PoMiw * Kvmmuu, PriotoM. 

f « i\t Ittmtfrs 



ni VHB 




The City of Deligfai (Musio). 


Precious Stones of the Heayenly Fonndatlooi, •••••. 18 

COBHKB Stonb, •.•... 20 

God, 26 

Tlie Gracious Invitation, 28 

The Goodly Mansion, .......... 80 

JA8PBB :— DNine Ujstery, . .'•••••....81 

Trust in God, ../..••••... 85 

Why am I sent here? • • . . 87 

Here and There, ... . . • • 89 

Divine Mysteries, 42 

Wliispers of the Watching Spirit, ...•••.. 44 

Dream of Dr. Doddridge, , ... 47 

To my Soul, • ... 62 

What makes the Soul so Valuable T 64 

Sapphikb :— Heavenly-mindedness, 65 

Pilgrimage, 61 

The Heavenly Temple, • . . .61 

The Departed One, ..•••• 68 

The Reasons for being Holy, .••.•....65 

Thoughts of Heaven, ,• . . .66 

The New Jerusalem, .••••••... 68 

Heaven, ••.60 




Ohaloidoit :— Royal Dominion, .79 

The Beatific Tiflion, • 76 

The PleMoret of the Bedemed, •••••••• 80 

The Hearenly Choir, 8S 

The Light, the Way, and the Tnth, 85 

Royal Dominion of Chritt, 86 

iMii k i.D :— 'Refrething light, 89 

The Bleet Realities, 08 

The Yision of the Dying, 96 

The Better Land, > • . • 97 

The Forest Foneral, 99 

The Land which no Mortal may Know, 102 

Longing for the Heayenly City, 104 

Martyr*s Requiem, 106 

Preparation for Death, ...••••••• 108 

Sasdovtx :— Lore, • .... 109 

Reply of the Messenger Bird, 118 

Recognition in Heayen, 116 

A Toice ft-om Hearen, 117 

That one Single Terse, 119 

The Loyed and Gone, ••• ISO 

Loye Diyine, • 188 

The Star of Loye, IM 

The Orandenr of Pridse, .••••••.• 185 

A Thought of the Departed, .••••••••188 

Baboivs: — Humility, •••.•••••••. 188 

Only Waiting, 18T 

How to be Happy, 189 

Lon^gs for Home, 144 

The Blessed Home, 148 

Pilgrlm^s FareweU to the World, 145 

Heayen a Refbge for the Unsuccessftd of Earth, 147 

Reyerie in a Forest of North Carolina, 1^ 

Simplielty of Faitii, 160 

The New Jerusalem, .......••• 161 


OHSTSOura: — ^Trntti, , 158 

The Tnitli of God, 157 

Solemn Scenes that will Come, 161 

Fading, 168 

The Way to Hearen, 165 

Death-Bed of Rutherford, 16T 

Butl .'—Knowledge, 172 

The Pagan Qaestioning Death, . .176 

The Departed Soul, 178 

Bacon, the^ulptor, 179 

There shall be no Night there, 180 

Tisions of Eternity, 188 

Goelum et Terra, 185 

The Life to Gome, 188 

TOPAS : — Clemenpy, 193 

Abide with Me, 19T 

A Trophy, , 199 

The Land of Calm Delifl^t, • • ' 201 

Let Me go Home, 208 

Dies IrsB, Dies Ilia, 206 

Resting in Mercy, 208 

Dreams of Hearen, 209 

OHmTSOPRASVs:— Prosperity, 211 

The Verge of Jordan, ..•••••.., 215 

The Moment after Death, 218 

My Home is not on Earth, . • • 219 

■ The Better Ck>untry, \ ...,.,... 221 

Beyond the Riyer, 222 

Prosperity and Adrersity, 224 

The Painter*s Last Rest, . . . , , . , . . .225 

Gone, but not Lost, 228* 

The Christian Mourner's Prospect, 282 

Jacwth :— -Victory, 284 

More than Conquerors, . . • • • 288 

The Dying Boy, 240 



jACiirTH :— The Meeting-Plaoe, ^ MS 

Last Moments of John Knox, , . . S45 

A liUle While, 247 

HaU.Te Happy Spirit! 1 S49 

AMiTHrST : — Immortal Joy, 250 

The Land Far Away, 266 

Present Sufferings and Fature Joy, 289 

The Heavenly Rirer, ; .... 960 

The Blessed Country, 268 

Let me Go, for the Day Breaketh, 265 

" We AU will meet again,»» 26T 

Heavenly Employ, 268 

Tlsions of Heaven, 271 

An ArtLBt*B Farewell to Time, 276 

Trinity Chimes, 280 

Visions in Twilight (In Memoriam), 281 

The Grave (From the German), 292 

Reveries in Starlight, 296 

Springs of Association, 809 

Jerusalem, My Happy Homfr— The Andent Poem, 828 

Come, Lord Jesus 1 828 

itg of liJlifiW. 

Music by the late JOHIV WALTER B. GARRETT. 



sum - mer flam-ing, There re - lax their bias - ter - ing 

i->4 J ^ J ^"tj~^ ' ' ^-^^ 

And sweet ro - ses ev - er bloom-ing, Make an ev - er- 



2 There nor waxing moon, nor waning 

Sun, nor stars in courses bright ; 
For the Lamb to that glad city. 

Shines an everlasting light : 
There the daylight beams for ever, 

All unknown are time and night 

3 For the saints in beauty beaming, 

Shine in light and glory pure, 
Crown'd in triumph's flushing honors, 

Joy in unison secure ; 
And in safety tell their battles, 

And their foes' discomfiture, 

4 Here they live in endless being, 

Passingness has passed away ; 
Here they bloom, they thrive, they flourish. 

For decayed is all decay ; 
Lasting energy hath swallowed 

DarUlng death's nuUf nant iwaj. 

Introi^nf ti0n. 

8 an heir, pressmg eftrneatly onward to take pofleeaaloB of 
hia newly-acquired demesne in a iar^ff coontry, not only 
frequently consults his chart in order to ascertain the 
safer and more expeditious way thither, but also assidu- 
ously seeks to inform himself concerning the estate itself, 
of its situation, its advantages, its comforts, and its 
6eau<ttft;— so, a religious inquiry into the momentous future 
whither we are all joumeyers, is the most rational of all pursuits, 
and always beneficial ; for, the more the mind is abstracted from 
earthly, and fixed on divine things, the better will it be fitted for 
entering upon the Inheritance of the Saints in Light 

God is a God of Beauty, of Grandeur, and of Order. The love- 
liness of thia world, blemished as it is by sin, fully evidences that ; 
and no student of Scripture is there who can fail to perceive that 
the allusions to beauty throughout it are innumerable. We are too 
much disposed, in this state of trial, to view Heaven in it saspect of 
negative happiness — as a place of exemption from pain, from death, 
from curse, from sorrow. Nor at this, indeed, can we much won- 
der. A person in abject misery takes little pleasure in the fairest 
flowers or gems ; doubtless Lazarus, could he but anoint his sores, 
and satisfy the cravings of hunger, burned himself not at all ju 


admiriDg the decorations and braveriefl that enrironed the rich 
man ; but, all such woes surmounted, endless felicity in near pros- 
pect, and a home of unchanging prosperity assured, why, why should 
not its fortunate heirs enter, by faith, and with an avidity irrepress- 
ible, upon a critical survey of its peculiar beauties and glories ? 
Alas, for us ! we dwell too much among the tombs ; mayhap, bemoan- 
ing those who the while are exulting in the open vision of the 
adorable Trinity. Not perceiving through the mist of tears the 
immortal crown held out to us, we shroud our brows with a funereal 
chaplet of cypress and yew I Happy were we could we become 
adepts in Paul's arithmetic, and adopt his estimate of the relative 
value of earthly and heavenly things: '* For I reckon that the suf- 
ferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the 
glory which shall be revealed in us I*' 

From the deepest shades of sorrow, I have looked upward for 
some consoling object of contemplation — some subject, which, by 
abstracting my thoughts from a fresh-made grave, might serve to 
alleviate some of the melancholy seasons of bereavement and soli- 
tude. And thus, surrounded by mementoes of the loved and 
severed, and listening the meanwhile to the blasts of autumn, and 
the muffled wail of the sere foliage as it drops fluttering to the 
ground, reminding me that ** we do all fade as a leaf,'' this little 
volume has been designed and completed. It is now dismissed with 
the prayer that it may be the favored medium of calming the tem- 
pest in some troubled minds, of casting into some stricken hearts 
the consoling rays of peace, and resignation, and hope, and of lifting 
the soul to Him, who 

** Shows, beyond these mortal shores, 
A bright inheritance as ours ; 
Where saints in light oar coming watt 
70 share their holy, happy state.** 


The subject of the ensuing pages — a series of reflections on some 
of the figurative external beauties of the Heavenly City, is, it is 
believed, in its views and treatment, original. There are brief 
dissertations on the twelve precious stones which, engraven with 
the names of the Holy Apostles, garnish the Foundations of Heaven, 
with the significations which seem most appropriate to each, and 
relative texts of Scripture. Associated with every stone are a few 
precious gems of human thought in lingual setting, generally simi- 
lar in character. They consist of both prose and poetry, and with 
two or three exceptions, have exclusive reference to the future life. 
Some of them are extracts from eminent authors, but a majority 
are beautiful waifs which have been gathered while floating by on 
the current. With these are interspersed a few original poems and 

It is a source of regret that the names of the authors of the 
extracts could not always be ascertained. Such omissions, will not, 
it is hoped, be attributed to a spirit of literary injustice, which is 
ever seriously to be deprecated, but to a lack of the requisite 

A. B. G. 

Bbookltk, Deo, 20tA, 1868. 

€\t '§xmu Slones 



^ORGEOXJS as is the imagery employed by 
the inspired apostle in his description of the 
great city, the Holy Jerusalem; — of its 
twelve gates of orient pearl ; its wall great 
and high, and it& refulgent foundations ; its 
street of pure transparent gold ; its crystal river, 
and its tree of Life — ^it yet falls infinitely short of 
the reality. Human language is utterly inadequate 
to portray even a faint similitude* of the ineffable 
delights of the Divine Abode. Through the rain- 
bow-hued radiancy of twelve of the most famous 
gems, Saint John essays to picture to us the blaze 
of glory and diversified beauty that girds it 



round about ; and by the silver river gliding with 
melodious murmur between enamelled meads, and 
the tree hung with twelve manner of delicious 
fruits, and with leaves for the healing of the 
nations, to offer us a foretaste of the delectable 
banquet prepared for the white-robed multitude 
who tread the shining avenues. But, ah I though 
glowing his figures, and spirit-stirring his words, it 
as much transcends the power of mortal language 
to convey, as of human thought to entertain, con- 
ceptions so vast ; for " eye hath not seen, neither 
ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of 
man to conceive what the Lord hath prepared for 
them who love him." In vain do we, amid the 
flickerings of celestial light John affords us, and 
inspired by hope, strive to upward soar and catch 
a faint echo of the preludes of those golden harps, 
and a strain of those thrilling voices chanting the 
new song ; — ^in vain ; imagination hath but leaden 
wings for such a flight. Yet when we read the 
vision of the beloved apostle, and ponder over the 
glimpses therein revealed of future bliss, even at 
the partial transcription, our hearts must bound, 
our spirits must kindle with joy. 

Precious stones are frequently employed in Scrip- 
tui*e to represent splendor and vivid beauty of 


color, as in Isaiah liv. and Ezekiel xxviii. ; but in 
two especial instances they are marshalled in con- 
stellations of peculiar grandeur. The first occurs 
in the Breast-Plate of the high priest, a jewel made 
by direction of Moses under the immediate super- 
vision of the Almighty himself, and which was to 
be worn by Aaron and his successors while minis- 
tering in sacred worship. The second is on the 
foundations of the holy city, as set forth in the 
twenty-first chapter of Revelation. In each case 
the number and kind of gems are very nearly, if 
not altogether, the same — the order of arrangement 
only varies. On the Breast-Plate the stones were 
engraven or sealed with the names of the twelve 
patriarchs, the sons of Jacob, in the order of their 
birth. In relation to the order of the names on the 
Breast-Plate, Jewish doctors of the Law, and Com- 
mentators differ. The Rabbins, and various other 
writers on the subject down to our own day, con- 
cur in the opinion that first were mentioned the six 
sons of Leah ; next the two of Bilhah ; next the two 
of Zilpah, and la&t of all the two of Rachel. But 
Josephus, who, himself a priest, ought surely to be 
an able authority for everything appertaining to the 
Hebrew law ; Prideaux, Jerome, and others, decide 
on placing them according to their ages. Which 


is the more correct, I, of course, have no means of 
ascertaining. At this remote period, however, it 
seems not to be a matter of sufficient moment — ^not 
involving vital truth — for controversy or earnest 
speculation. The subject is here adverted to 
because that throughout the ensuing pages, allusion 
is occasionally made to the names on the Breast- 
Plate. On the Foxmdations the gems were engraven 
with the names of the twelve Apostles in the order 
of their calling ; from which they are designated 
by mineralogists the "Apostle Gems." Without 
presuming to indulge in frivolous or idle conjecture 
regarding ^uch a remarkable coincidence, we may, 
nevertheless, be permitted a certain latitude of 
imaginativeness. With a view of ascertaining what 
poetical significations, if any, may perchance apper- 
tain to these grouped " Stones of Fire," and being 
furthermore desirous of establishing analogies be- 
tween such characteristics, and the histories of 
those whose names they memorialize, many com- 
mentators and other authorities have been con- 
sulted, and with but very limited success. Calmet, 
perhaps as reliable authority as any, affirms that 
the Hebrews themselves are ignorant of the true 
significations of their precious stones ; and we can- 
not, with any degree of certainty, rely upon the 


Egyptians, from whom they derived the names of 
them, or on other heathen authors of antiquity. 

Every one is aware that to attempt to strictly lite- 
ralize this most mystical of books, the Apoca- 
lypse — would be but arrogance and folly, for 
spiritual things are to be spiritually discerned ; but 
can there be any impropriety in pursmng a tram 
of thought which has been opened by inspiration, 
and which has a tendency to call off the mind from 
the baubles of earth and fix it upon the permanent 
glories of Heaven ? I trow not. As to the man- 
ner in which the Foundations are garnished with 
precious stones, writers differ, Adam Clarke, in 
whom, certainly, the poetic element did not pre- 
dominate—supposes that each stone, engraven with 
the name of an apostle, was placed merely as a 
threshold to each gate. Others incline to the 
opinion that the walls were inlaid all around. 
Twelve stones would seem to be but meagre gar- 
nishing for such a structure. Is not the figure more 
likely intended to imply that each gem, or multipli- 
cations of it, extended all around the walls ; and as 
the name of the progenitor of each tribe was 
inscribed above the gates, might not that of each 
apostle be inscribed beneath ? 

The fame of the Priestly Breast-Plate, both for 


its costly magnificence, and for the supematoral 
blaze of glory which emanated from it, having 
spread among the outside nations, who were ever 
keenly observant of the doings of the chosen peo- 
ple, the priests of heathen temples were induced 
to attempt various imitations of it, not comprehend- 
ing its sacred import. They wore images and neck- 
laces of gems, hoping by these apish devices to 
.secure the popular confidence. Alcander, in his 
heliacal table, says that they pictured Apollo with 
a diadem of twelve precious stones; and another 
writer applied the sacred cluster of gems to the 
sun, aflSxing three to each quarter of the year. In 
the days of Pliny, gems were endowed with mar- 
vellous powers, and miracles of the most prodigious 
nature were rumored to be performed through 
their agency. Amulets, or talismans, of gems, 
inscribed with cabalistic characters, were worn, 
which were believed to bestow upon the fortunate 
possessor health, beauty, glory, and wealth. 

Precious stones are indeed among the loneliest 
products of creation ; from their resplendence and 
richness of colors, they may be called imperishable 
flowers. The whole symbolic mythology of Egypt 
was transcribed upon hard stones of almost every 
description, such being the most secure method of 


preserving their ideas and doctrines. There is a 
Jewish tradition that Solomon engraved the Tebra^ 
grcummaton^ or adorable name of Jehovah, upon the 
foundation-stone of the Temple. 

For the poetical sentiments annexed to precious 
stones, in these pages, I am guided, in no small 
measure, by a rare old volume, " Solomon's Temple 
Spiritualized," by one Christopher Kelly. It is a 
treatise which abounds in original conceits and pro- 
found research into sacred ordinances and cere- 
monials. The mass of authorities whom he quotes 
appears almost incredible ; probably no writer upon 
sacred lore, ancient or modern, down to the end of 
the last century, has escaped his notice ; and having 
candidly weighed all their several opinions, he gives 
the result. Certain it is that no two translators 
from the Seventy down, agree in their descriptions 
or renderings of the precious stones : but, after all, 
being but vehicles of spiritual beauty, it is not essen- 
tial that we should know their precise tints and 

Oftimes the gems themselves suggest their signi- 
fications, as, the blue sapphire, Heavenly-minded- 
ness ; the green emerald, Eefreshing-light ; the 
brilliant carbuncle, Royal-dominion: and again, 
they are deduced from a study of the characters 


and careers of the patriarchs and their descendants, 
and of the holy apostles. Serious meditations these 
profess but to be, with no pretensions whatever to 
profundity or infallibility ; for, the precious stones 
may be only designed to represent by their beauty, 
arrangement, and diversity, the harmonious blend- 
ing and variety of divine graces in the soul formed 
anew after the image of Christ; 

" And the wall of the city had twelve founda- 
tions, and in them the names of the twelve apostles 
of the Lamb." 

The First Foundation was : — 

PlTlR, .... 

Jasper, . . 

. Divine-mystery,^' — 

Andriw, . . . 

Sapphire, . . 

, Heavenly-mindedness. ^ 

Jambs, . . . . 

Chalcedony, • 

. Royal-dominion. ^-''^ 

John, .... 

Emerald, . . 

. Refreshing-light, l^ 

PHILIPj . . . 

Sardonyx, . . 

. Love. L^ 

Babtholombw, . 

Sardine, . . 

. HumiKty. ^ 

Matthew, . . 

Chrysolite, . . 

. Truth. ly 

Thomas, . . . 

Beryl, . . . 

. Knowledge. ^'^ 


Topaz, . . . 

. Mercy. C^ 

JUDE, ...» 

Chrysoprostu, . 

. Prosperity. (/^ 

Simon, . . . 

Jacinth, . . . 

. 'Victory. 

Matthias, . . 

Amethyst, . . 

. Immortal Joy. 

Of this marvellous structure Jesus Christ himself 
is the Oomer-Stone. a. b. o. 

€mix Sim. 

JesruB Olirist. Salvatioiu 

** Behold I lay in Zion for a foundation, a stone, a tried stone, a 
precious comer stone,ra sure foundation." 

jHE figure of a Eock or Stone is repeatedly 
employed throughout the Holy Scriptures, 
whenever it is requisite to express vast 
strength, indestoictibiKty, or firmness. We 
can conceive of no more forcible symbol of 
durability than a massive, mighty rock, which has 
withstood the shocks of the fierce tornado, and the 
corroding influences of centuries. And hence is God 
the Son often, both by the inspired writers and by 
himself, likened unto one, because He has endured 
unscathed the brunt of ages, and stood immovable 
against the terrible threefold ordeal of Heaven, of 
Earth, and of Hell. He suffered the righteous in- 
dignation of Heaven for the accumulated sins of the 
whole world which He had voluntarily assumed ; 
He endured the ingratitude and malice of foolish 



Men who disowned their Deliverer from wrath 
divine ; and He met undaunted the demoniac fury 
of Hell with its legions of myrmidons, crushed its 
power forever, sheltered within His cleft side its 
longed-for prey, and triumphed gloriously over all, 
the Mighty Conqueror! 

But He, the Saviour, is more frequently alluded 
to under the metaphor of a comer-stone — ^the most 
essential prop or pillar of a building. Christ, as the 
comer-stone of His Church, is not only a solid block 
of living-stone at the base of the structure ; He is 
incorporated with it, and arising with it, stands 
exalted in towering glory at the head of the comer ; 
and from tlie very summit of the edifice, issues His 
loving summons : " Ho ! every one that thirsteth, 
come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money ; 
come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk 
without money, and without price !" Thus is it He 
becomes " the head of the body, the Church." 

" He is called (says Kelly), a frecious stone, by a 
metaphor taken from gems and stones of great 
value. Ten thousand times more precious than 
that natural diamond rock on which an ancient 
castle once in England stood — ^now in deplorable 
ruins ; whereas this Eock of Ages shall never be- 
hold corruption : more precious, indeed ! as being 


of a snpematnral essence, and cut out of the moun- 
tain of eternity, without hands, in respect of His 
divine nature, which is free from the least shadow 
of a flaw, or any tincture of blemish — shining most 
oriently with all the sparklings of divine perfec- 
tions. Precious is this stone on account of its 
admirable qualities, and most efficacious virtues, 
infinitely beyond the force and power of the famous 
ThCBmatites^iox staunching the bleeding . wounds of 
our souls, which would have bled to death through 
the gashes received in Paradise, had not virtue 
issued from Christ for their restraint. Beyond the 
fiery carbuncle in resisting the flames of His Father's 
wrath, that are ready to devour the vital spirits of 
wretched sinners, who dare presume to draw nigh 
to this consuming fire without Christ, or converse 
with such everlasting burnings. Beyond the attrac- 
tive virtue of the magnetical stone in the drawing 
of souls after Him, and alluring them into imion 
and communion with himself. Nay, more pre- 
cious than the impenetrable adamant, whereof some 
ancients report such a quality to be- inherent in it 
that those who carry it about them, shall prove 
valiant in fight and unconquerable in their enter- 
prises. Thus we are made more than conquerors 
through Him that loved us, by whose means it is 

24 THE OOBim-flTOKS. 

tliat we receive the Tictory, wh^i fighting xmd&r 
the banner c^ this heavenly Achilles, who, being 
himself animated with a more precious miction 
than his, of ambrosia from above, is in every part 
invulnerable, except His heel, which for awhile is 
bmised in Hi s poor members militant upon the 
earth, till all His enemies be subdued under His 
feet in the behalf of His dear church. 

" Besides, He is a most precious stone, by reason 
of His incomparable rarity ; there being but one 
of this nature found in the whole world. Who 
would not turn a spiritual merchant, and selling all 
that he hath, endeavor to purchase this inestimable 
treasure ? This is that stone, says holy Peter, on 
which only our salvation resteth. There being no 
other name under heaven given among men, 
whereby we must be saved, tiian that new name 
engraven on this white stone, the Lord our Right- 
eousness. The Lord Jesus Christ is the only 
sun, which, by His bright and folgent rays, dispels 
the darkness of the chambers of death, and o{ the 
bottomless pit. He is the only Phoenix, out of 
whose perfumed ashes doth arise the curiously 
plumed progeny of the church, whose wings are . 
covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow 
gold. This is the only stone, the Rock of Ages so pre- 


cious to them that beKeve, on which alone our feet 
can be steadily fixed, that our goings may be estab- 

Imperial Rock of Ages 1 on whom no tempest- 
tossed voyager ever suffered shipwreck ; trusting in 
whom none ever was disappointed ; knd clinging to 
whom none ever perished! Evermore be Thou 
our sure refuge and our secure hiding-place ! 

A. B. G. 


OLTEST of holiee I Thou art God alone^ 
Oa Tbj aU-gloiiona, OTerlaatiDg throne I 
Thon, Eock of Ages, dost the same abide, 
While our durations by short minutes glide ; 
Thy wondrous works Thy mighty power de- 
Which yet faint sketches of Thy glory are. 
Thy majesty ten thousand suns outvies, 
A sight too radiant for the seraph's eyes. 
Thy Deity, uncircumscribed by place. 
Fills heaven, and earth, and extra mundane space ; 
Above all change unchangeably abides. 
And, as it pleases, casual changes guides. 
Thou present art in this terrestrial sphere — 
Where'er we fly or hide, Thou still art near; 
Thou present art when sinners dare thy stroke ; 
Thou present art when saints Thine aid invoke* 
Thou, in all sin's recesses, dost survey 
Pollution with an unpolluted ray ; 
Thou present art all creatures to sustain, 

And influence Thine nniversal reign. 

Thou in the temple of the world dost dwell, 

All blessings to confer, all iUs repel ; 

Benign, or dreadful, Thou still present art, 

In every saint, in every sinner's heart. 

Thy saints there, for thy Godhead, temples build, 

IjVl^ieh with Thy gracious Shechinah are filled ; 

And from Thy presence sinners feel within, 

Anticipation of wrath due to sin. 

Thou Searcher of my heart! my heart possess, 

53iine own idea deeply there impress. 

Oh purify me. Lord ! as Thou art pure; 

From the polluting world, my soul secure ; 

Thine image reengrave: to copy Thee 

Is my chief prayer — ^shall my ambition be. 

28 THE 00BKSR-8T0KS. 

«< Come unto me all je that labor and are hearj laden, and I will 
gire you rest.** 

) RACIOUS " word '' of a gracious Saviour, 
on which the soul may confidingly repose, 
and be at peace forever ! It is a present 
rest — the rest of ffrace as well as the rest 
of glory. Not only are there signals of 
peace hung out from the walls of heaven — ^the 
lights of Home glimmering in the distance to cheer 
our footsteps ; but we have the "shadow" of this 
" great Rock " in a present " weary land." Before 
the throne above is there " the sea of glass," with- 
out one rippling wave ; but there is a haven even 
on earth for the tempest-tossed — ^" We which have 
believed do enter into rest." 

Return, then, unto thy rest, O my soul f Let the 
sweet cadence of this " word of Jesus steal on 
thee amid the disquietudes of earth. Sheltered in 
Him, thou art safe for time, safe for eternity I 


There may be, and will be, temporary tossings, 
fears, and misgivings — ^manifestations of inward 
corruption ; but these will only be like the surface- 
heavings of the ocean, while underneath there is a 
deep, settled calm. " Thou wilt keep him in perfect 
peace (],it, peace, peace) whose mind is stayed on 
Thee." In the world it is care on care, trouble on 
trouble, sin on sin ; but every wave that breaks on 
the believer's soul seems sweetly to murmur 
" Peace, peace I" 

And if the foretaste of this rest be precious, 
what must be the glorious consummation? 
Awaking in the morning of immortality, with 
the unquiet dream of earth over — faith lost in 
sight, and hope in fruition ; — ^no more any bias to 
sin — no more latent principles of evil — ^nothing 
to disturb the spirit's deep, everlasting tranquillity 
— ^the trembling magnet of the heart reposing, 
where alone it can confidingly and permanently 
rest, in the enjoyment of the Infinite God. 

Fh>m ** Words of Jeras," by Rer. John B. Maodnit 


THE oo&MKK-^rrainL 


ONE, O only mansion I 

O Paradise erf joy ! 
Where tears are ever banish^ 

And joys have no alloy ; 
Beside thy living waters 

All plants are, great and small — 
The cedar of the forest. 

The hyssop of the wall. 
Thy ageless walls are bonded 

With amethyst unpriced, 
The saints bnild up its fabric. 

And the camernstone is CShrist. 

Thou hast no shore, fair ocean f 

Thou hast no time, bright day I 
Dear fountain of refreshment 

To pilgrims far away I 
Upon the Rock t)f Ages 

They raise thy holy power ; 
Thine is the victor's laurel. 

And thine the golden dower. 

from St Benuurd'k Pmb, tbe ** 0^7 of CkA* 

I>eter- X>ivizie Mywtex^* 

■^ WMch things the angels desire to look into." 

)BLE JASPEE ifl the precious stone of 
the first foundation of the Holy City, 
where it is engraven witii the name 
of Peter. The jasper is *a semi-trans- 
parent gem, of which there are speci- 
fied fifteen distinct varieties, although the most 
valuable is a clear green with red veins. It is fre- 
quently beautifully and curiously variegated with 
rings, spots, and stripes ; is very hard in substance, 
^nd is susceptible of a fine polish. Some translate 
this stone sapphire, and others, diamond. We read 
in the Apocalypse that, "He who sat upon the 
throne was to look upon, like jaq)er ;" " which," says 
the learned author to whom I am chiefly indebted 
for these descriptions of gems, "signifies the sta- 
pendous and various excellences of the Divine 
attnlMztef^; «nd theat sb ibis stone is not ixsasspm' 


rent, so neither is it possible or lawful for any mor- 
tal to dive into such unspeakable mysteries*'^ 
DivmE Mysteby, both from its own characteristics 
ana the Evangelist's language, seems to be the fit- 
test signification to attach to this stone, for it 
begins and completes the entire fabric, the first 
foundation and topmost wall being both of jasper. 
The skillful admixture and blending of colors, in 
the gems of the foundation, must awaken our live- 
liest admiration, if we give the subject a moment's 
consideration. No two are placed consecutively 
whose approximation of tone or hue might cloy 
on the sight, or whose incongruity might cliallenge 
the nicest artistic ta^te; but all evidence the 
matchless harmony and variety which is ever 
visible in the handi-work of the God of infinite 
love and power. An equal harmoniousness mani- 
fests itself in the setting of the priestly Breast- 
Plate gems, although their order from these is 
different. The cause of the variation we cannot 
determine, but may not there be something signifi- 
cant in the fact that the last mentioned in the Old 
Testament list is the first in the New? Flavel 
beautifully says of the mystery of the Divine deal- 
ings with us : " Providence is like a curious piece 
of tapestry, made of a thousand shreds, which sin* 

DiifiMK IfTSTEET. 88 

gle, appear useless, but put together, they repre- 
sent a beautiful history to flie eye.'' 

Upon St. Peter was conferred the honor of 
being the senior apostle of his Lord. Jesus, on his 
first interview with Simon Peter, called him a 
stone ; and Christians in general are designated by 
St. Paul, "living stones" — that is to say, stones 
which are firmly placed and have not been dis- 
turbed from their original foundations. Peter^ 
the ardent, enthusiastic disciple, in his impulses, 
his errors, his weaknesses, and his bitter repent- 
ance, touches and wins our warmest sympa- 
thies above any other of the chosen few ; because 
that in temperament he is a type of a large portion 
of humanity. In direct contrast to the character ot 
Peter is the saintly sweetness of that of John, which, 
while all admire, very few are able to imitate. To 
natural disposition may justly be attributed many 
of the prominent characteristics of each. Peter 
seems of us ; John far above us. The history of 
Peter is calculated to afford us consolation and 
hope. Were his restoration to Christ's favor not 
recorded foi* our encouragement and instruction, we 
would be apt to doubt it ; for mere human judg- 
ment is little disposed to extend mercy to such 
fiiaiful delinquency. His ill-regulated ?»al continu- 



aUj led him into errors ; and at times, his impeta- 
osity drew upon him the gentle rebuke of his Mas-* 
ter. It is difficalt to trace a resemblance between 
the fierj adherent who wished to invoke vengeful 
fire from heaven to consume certain who declined 
to do him reverence, and the tender pastor who 
afterwards in his epistles bestows such affectionate 
greetings on his flock, and who joyfully hailed the 
bitter p9.ng8 of martyrdom. After such experience 
as was his — ^after such soul-discipline, well might 
Peter describe the angels as desirous of looking 
into the mysteries of redemption. He loved nmch 
because much he was forgiven. 

In our hour of most grievous sin, do Thou, O 
Lord, but turn and look upon us as thou didst upon 
derelict Peter, and by that glance, we, too, shall be 
melted into contrition I Thrice blessed apostle ! who 
entered into the bright cloud with his Master, and 
witnessed the sublime mystery of His Transfigura- 
tion, full well might he, enrapt in the beatific 
vision, exclaim, " Lord, it is good for us to be here ; 
if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles ; 
one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias." 

A* B. O* 


frast in §at 

** What I do thoQ knowest not now, bat thou afaalt know here- 

B2T0W not what Thou dost : all, all seems 
Clouds of portentous blackness are o'er 
spread ; 
Wild billows dash upon my quiv'ring bark, 
The thunder's crash reverb'rates o'erhead. 
Yet, Lord, I'll trust Thee in life's darkest hour — 
My shield, my safeguard, and my strong high 

I know not what Thou dost : yet I will wait 
Till I behold Thee in heaven's cloudless sky,— 
Till I shall reach that glory-circled state. 
In whose bright radiance darkness melts away. 
Then shall I read Thy doings here below, 
Inscribed in linei^ qf light that ever glow. 


I know not what Thou dost : yet I will know, 
And know to praise Thee for my darkest days ; 
Though themes of sorrow seem Thy doings now, 
Yet they shall soon be tum'd to themes for praise. 
Yes, I will trust Thee till Thou kindly pour, 
On me Thy glory's coruscating shower. 

I know not what Thou dost : yet will I hope 
In Thee till life's wild troubled stream be past ; 
Till heaven's fair portals on my vision ope, 
Till immortality be o'er me cast : 
Till glory on my wondering spirit break, 
And glad fruition follow in its wake. 


m^ m I stvt |m? 

S a question not always asked with as pious 
care as it should be. One of the most 
hardened infidels in our land was brought 
to the knowledge, of the truth by means 
of a minister of our acquaintance, who had 
been driven into his house by a violent storm. 
The minister felt much grieved at being stopped in 
his way before he reached the house of a brother, 
but God meant it to save life. The following story 
shows the importance of asking " Why am I sent 
here ?" " Mr. Guthrie, a minister who lived and 
labored in Scotland more than a century ago, was 
one evening travelling home very late, when he 
lost his way, and laid the reins on the ht)rse's neck, 
committing himself to Providence. After long 
travelling, the horse brought him to a farmer's 
house, into which he went, and requested permis- 
sion to sit by the fire until morning. This was 

^^A Eomish priest was administering extreme 

8S WTont ifT9EXBrr« 

unction to the mistress of the house, who was 
dying. Mr. Guthrie said nothing till the priest 
had retired; he then went to the dying woman 
and asked her if she enjoyed peace in the prospect 
of death in consequence of what the priest had 
said and done to her. She answered that' she did 
not; on which he preached to her salvi^on 
through the atoning blood of the Lamb. The 
Lord enabled her to understand, and to believe the 
message of mercy, and she died in the triumphs of 
redeeming love. After witnessing this astonishing 
scene, Mr. Guthrie mounted his horse and rode 
home. On his arrival he told Mrs. Guthrie he had 
seen a great wonder during the night. ' I came,' he 
said, ^ to a farmhouse, where I foand a woman in a 
state of nature, I saw her in a state of grace, and 
left her in a state of glory.' " 


fttt anJr %\ttt, 

*i Ejo hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hare entered into 
the heart of man, the thingf whieh God haih prepared for them 
that love him." 

HAT no human eye hath seen, 

What no mortal ear hath heard, 
What on thought hath never been 

In her noblest flighte conferr'd — 
This hath God prepared in stor^ 
For his people evermore. 

When the shaded pilgrim land 

Fades before my closing eye, 
Then reveal'd on either hand 

Heaven's own scenery shall lie^ 
Then the veil of flesh shall fall, 
Now concealing, darkening alL 

Heavenly landscapes, calmly bright, 
Life's pure river murmuring low. 
Forms of loveliness and li^t 


Lost to earth long time ago : — 
Yes, my own, lamented long, 
Shine amid the angel throng. 

Many a joyful sight was given, 
Many a lovely vision here, 

Hill, and vale, and starry even. 

Friendship's smile, affection's tear — 

These were shadows, sent in love, 

Of realities above 1 

When upon my wearied ear. 
Earth's last echoes faintly die, 

Then shall angel harps draw near, 
All the chorus of the sky. 

Long hushed voices blend again 

Sweetly in that welcome strain. 

Here were sweet and varied tones — 
Bird, and bree&e, and fountain's fall; 

Yet Creation's travail-groans 
Ever sadly sighed through all ; 

There no discord jars the air — 

Harmony is perfect there I 

When this aching heart shall rest 
All its busy pulses o'er. 


From her mortal robes nndrest, 

Shall my spirit upward soar — 
Then shall pure, unmingled joy, 
All my thoughts and powers employ. 

Here devotion's healing balm 

Often came to soothe my breast — 

Hours of deep and holy calm. 
Earnest of eternal rest ; 

But the bliss was here unknown 

Which shall there be all my own. 

Jesus reigns, the Life, the Sun, 
Of that wondrous land above — 

All the clouds and storms are gone, 
All is light and all is love. 

All the shadows melt away 

In the blaze of perfect day 1 

from tbe Chnum of Laag*. 

m Mvms Kwnxt. 

HERE are secrets in our Lord's procedure 
which He will not explain to us in this life, 
and which may not, perhaps, be explained in 
the life to come. We cannot tell how He 
makes evil the minister of good ; how he com- 
bines physical and moral agencies of different kinds 
and orders, in the production of blessings. We cannot 
so much as coi\jecture what bearings the system of 
Eedemption, in every part of its process, may have 
upon the relations of the Universe ; not even what 
may be all the connections of Providence in the 
occurrences of this moment, or of the last. " Such 
knowledge is too wonderful for us: it is high, we 
cannot attain it." Our Sovereign's " way is in the 
sea, and his path in the deep waters : and his foot- 
steps are not known." When, therefore, we are 
surroimded with difficulty ; when we cannot unrid- 
dle His conduct in particular-dispensations, we must 
remember that He is God ; that we are to walk by 
faith ; and to trust Him as implicitly when we are 

in " the valley .of the shadow of death/' as when 
His " candle shines npon our heads.'' We must 
remember that it is not for ns to be admitted into 
the cabinet of the King of kings ; that creatures 
constituted as we are, could not sustain the view of 
TTifl unveiled agency ; that it would confound, 
and scatter, and annihilate our little intellects. As 
often, then, as He retires from our observation, 
blending goodness with majesty, let us lay our 
hands upon our mouths, and worship. This ^ate- 
liness of our King can afford us no just ground of 

Bev. John Mason. 

44 DivuiE imrsBT. 

)N youth I died, in maiden bloom ; 
With gentle hand Death touched my cheek, 
And with his touch there came to me 
A spirit calm and meek. 

He took from me all wish to stay, 
He was so kind, I feared him not : 
My friends beheld my slow decline, 
And moum'd my timeless lot. 

They saw but sorrow : I descried 
The bliss that never fades away. 
They felt the shadow of the tomb ; 
I mark'd the heavenly day. 

I heard them sob, as through the night 
They kept their watch ; then on mine ear 
Amid the sobbing fell a voice 
Their anguish could not hear. 

" Come, and fear not,'' it softly cried ; 
^ We wait to lead thee to thy home." 


Then leap'd my spirit to reply, 
" I come, I long to comel" 

I heard them whisper o'er my bed, 
Another hour, and she must die. 
I was too weak to answer them — 
That endless life was nigh. 

Another hour, with bitter tears 
They moum'd me as untimely dead ; 
And heard not how I sung a song 
Of triumph o'er their head. 

They bore me to the grave, and thought 
How narrow was my resting-place ; 
My soul was roving high and wide 
At will through boundless space. 

They clothed themselves in robes of black ; 
Through the sad aisles tbe requiem rang ; 
Meanwhile the white-robed choirs of heaven, 
A holy pean sang. 

Oft from my paradise I come. 
To visit those I love on earth. 
I enter, unperceived, the door ; 
They sit around the hearth, 

4A DJ?IHB ifTsmx. 

Aod talk in Badde^'d toa^ee of me, 
As one that nerer maj return. 
How little think they that I stand. 
Among them as they mourn. 

But time will ease their grief, and death 
Will purge the darkness from their eyea. 
Then shall they triumph, when they learn 
Heaven's solemn mysteries. 


^|E. DODDRIDGE was on tema of very in- 
timate friendship with Dr. Samuel Clarke, 
and in religioua conversation they spent very 
njany happy honrs together. Among other 
matters, a very favorite topic was the inter* 
mediate state of the soul, and the probability that 
at the instant of dissolution, it was not introduced 
into the presence of all the heavenly hosts, and the 
splendors around the Throne of Qrod, One evening, 
after a conversation of this nature. Dr. Doddridge 
retired to rest with his mind fall o£ the subject dis-. 
cussed, and in ^^ the visions of the night," his ideas 
were shaped into the following beautiful drean^; 
He dreamed that he was at the house of a friendt 
^ben he was suddenly taken dangerously ill. By 
degrees he seemed to himself to grow worse, and, at 
last, to expire. In an instant he was sensible tha^ 
he bad exchanged the prison-house and suffering of 
mortality for a state of liberty and happiness. Em- 
bodied in a slender aerial form, he seemed to float 


in a region of pure light Beneath him lay the 
earth, but not a glittering city or a village, the 
forest or the sea was visible. There was naught to 
be seen below save the melancholy group of his 
friends, weeping around his lifeless remains. 

Himself thrilled with delight, he was surprised at 
their tears, and attempted to inform them of his 
happy change, but by some mysterious power, utter- 
ance was denied ; and as he anxiously leaned over 
the mourning circle, gazing fondly upon them and 
struggling to speak, he rose silently upon the air, 
their forms became more and more indistinct, and 
gradually melted away from his sight. Eeposing 
upon golden clouds, he found himself swiftly mount- 
ing the skies with a venerable figure at his side 
guiding his mysterious movements, and in whose 
countenance he remarked the lineaments of youth 
and age were blended together with an intimate 
harmony and majestic sweetness. They travelled 
together through a vast region of empty space, until 
at length the battlements of a glorious edifice shone 
in the distance, and as its form rose brilliant and 
distinct among the far-off shadows that flitted 
athwart their path, the guide informed him that the 
palace he beheld, was, for the present, to be his 
mansion of rest. Gazing upon its splendor, he re- 

Diynns hysteby. 49 

plied, that while on earth he had often heard that 
the eye had not seen, nor had the ear heard, nor 
could it enter into the heart of man to conceive the 
things which God had prepared for those who love 
him; but, notwithstanding the building to which 
they were then rapidly approaching was superior 
to anything which he had actually before beheld, 
yet its grandeur had not exceeded the conceptions 
he had formed. The guide made no reply, they 
were already at the door, and entered. The guide 
introduced him into a spacious apartment, at the 
extremity of which stood a table, covered with a 
snow-white cloth, a golden cup, and a cluster of 
grapes, and then said he must now leave him, but 
that he must remain, for he would receive in a short 
time a visit from the Lord of the mansion, and that 
during the interval before His arrival the apartment 
would furnish him with sufficient entertainment 
and instruction. The guide vanished, and he was 
left alone. He began to examine the decorations 
of. the room, and observed that the walls were 
adorned with a number of pictures. Upon nearer 
inspection he found, to his astonishment, that they 
formed a complete biography of his own life. Here 
he saw upon the canvas that angels, though un- 
seen, had ever been his familiar, attendants ; and, 



sent by (lod, that they had sometimes preserved hirii 
from imminent peril. He beheld himself first re- 
presented as an infant just expiring, when his life 
was prolonged by an angel gently breathing into 
his nostrils. Most of the occurrences here deline- 
ated, were perfectly familiar to his recollection, and 
unfolded many things which he had neyer before 
understood, and which had perplexed him with 
many doubts and much xmeasiness. Among others, 
he was particularly struck with a picture in which 
he was represented as falling from his horse, when 
death would have been inevitable, had not an angel 
received him in his arms, and broken the force of 
his descent. These merciful interpositions of God 
filled him with joy and gratitude, and his heart 
overflowed with love as he surveyed in them all an 
exhibition of goodness and mercy fkr beyond all 
that he had imagined. Suddenly his attention was 
arrested by a rap at the door. The Lord of the 
mansion had arrived — the door opened and He en- 
tered. So powerful and so overwhelming, and 
withal of such singular beauty was His appearance^ 
that the doctor' sunk down at His feet, completely 
overcome by His majestic presence. His Lord 
gently raised him from the ground, and taking his 
hand, led him forward to the table. He preesied 

vnth His fingers tlie juice of the grapes into tlie 
golden cup, and, after having Himself drank, pre- 
sented it to Dr. Doddridge, saying: "This is the 
new wine in my Father's Kingdom." No sooner 
had he partaken than all nneasy sensations yanished, 
perfect love had now cast out fear, and he conversed 
with his Saviour as an intimate friend. Like the 
ffllver rippling <^ a summer sea, he heard fall from 
His lips the grateful approbation: "Hy labors are 
over, thy work is approved, rich and glorious is the 
reward." Thrilled with an unq)eakable bliss, that 
glided over his spirit and slid into the very depths 
of his soul, he suddenly saw glories upon glories 
bursting upon his view. Hie doctor awoke. Tears 
of rapture from his joyful interview were rolling 
down his cheeks. Long did the lively impression 
of this charming dream remain upon his mind, and 
never could he speak of it without emotions of joy 
and tenderness. 


9ff Pi s^buu 

UEST from a hdHer world, 
O tell me where the peaceful yaUeys lie^! 
Dove in the ark of life, when thou shalt fly, 
Where will thy wings be furled f 

Where is thy native neet ? 
Where the green pastures that the blessM roam I 
Impatient dweller in thy clay-built home, 

Where is the heavenly rest? 

On some immortal shore — 
Some realm away from earth and time, I know; 
A land of bloom, where living waters flow, 

And grief comes nevermore. 

Faith turns my eyes above; 
Day fills with floods of light the boundless skies ; 
Night watches calmly with her starry eyes, 

All tremulous with love. 

And as entranced I gaze, 
Sweet music floats to me frx>m distant lyrea; 


I see a temple, round whose golden q>ire8 
Uneaathly glory plays ! 

Within those azure deeps 
I fix thy home — ^a mansion kept for thee 
"Within the Father's house, whose noiseless key 

Kind Death, the warder, keeps. 



!)TS immortality. When endlem jean have 
nm on, the sonl will still exist; amazing 
thought I Will it never tire ? will the ethereal 
pnlsation of snblimated existence never grow 
heavy t will the wheel never be broken at the 
cistern? Keverl The sonl will endure as long as 
the throne of God I As heaven's wall shall gather 
no mosses from age, neither will the soul become 
decrepit ; and in all the multitudes of heaven, not 
one shall be seen leaning upon his staff for very 
age! What! like the angels, never grow old I to 
be always the same through dateless centuries as 
when first created I But cannot she annihilate her- 
self? Oh, no, the soul's literal suicide cannot be 
performed I No Judas Iscariot can find a sulphur- 
ous tree, or jutting wall, which, in Gehenna's cavern, 
or burning fields, may afford him suspension be- 
tween life and death. The soul must live on I 

.Aaidre-w. ^eavenly-ldandecLxiess. 

^ We hare found the Mesdas.** 

)HE SAPPHIRE is the precious stone of 
the second foundation of the New Jeru- 
s^ilenj, and sealed with the name of An- 
drew. The oriental sapphire is an exqui- 
site gem, l^eld in high reputation from its 
celestial azure and limpid transparency. In lustrQ 
^d hardness it is surpiissed only by the diamond. 
The ancients were wont to ascribe to it many 
miraculous virtues, such as being an ant idote 
against th^ stings of scorpions and add ers, and 
ffequenfly'w^e it as an amulet. It is enumerated 
among the Stones of Fire, which Ezekiel the pro- 
phet said adorned the King of Tyre ; and the same 
inspired writer describes the appearance of the 
heayenly throne, which he saw in his vision, a9 
yjesembling a sapphire stone. Its charming ceru- 
lean, so universally admired, and reminding us of the 



blue empyrean that arches in limitless expanse in 
the firmament above ns, renders it a fitting symbol 
of Heavienlt-Mindedness, — of the undisturbed 
tranquillity and sweet benign graces that reign in 
a saintly soul; just as a clear blue sky always 
betokens fair weather and cheerful sunshine. 
Blue, it may be observed, is a favorite color of 
Scripture, and in those days it was one of the most 
costly dyes in use, and much valued for elegant 
draperies and royal attire. Placed next in succes- 
sion to the jdsper in the eternal foundations, the 
sapphire is in beautiful contrast, the pellucid azure 
of the one being in fine relief with the semi- 
opaqueness and more sober comeliness of the 

"We have found the MessiasI" are the only 
words recorded of St. Andrew throughout the 
sacred narratives. This disciple, who lays not 
much claim to our attention by his sayings, was 
called by Christ to follow Him while laboring in 
his lowly avocation of a fisherman, in company 
with his brother, Simon Peter. The words are 
few, but they seem to imply two important points ; 
first, that he had been seeking Him who now, 
thus unexpectedly, manifested himself; and, in 
the second place, that, so soon as found, he, with 


trnqnestionijig faith, instantlj belieyed on Him^ 
^^ We have foond the Messias 1" exclaimed he, not 
I have found Him ; for well he knew that the 
mighty redemption should extend to all those who 
would receive it ; — ^and, leaving his nets, he 
straightway hastened to acquaint others with the 
glad tidings. The phrase, by its concise force, 
seems to indicate the eager delight of his soul, 
when the light of inspiration, flashing upon him, 
revealed to his astonished gaze the long-expected 
Messiah, walking in serene majesty by the Sea 
of Galilee. No sooner did Jesus speak, than, 
rejoicing in his unsought election, Andrew imme- 
diately, waiting but to bring his brother also to 
the Saviour, followed Him; and the celestial 
radiance which then dawned upon him, illumined 
his rugged path with increasing glory, until, re- 
leased from the cross of martyrdom, the Morning 
Star glittered upon his brow. 

Said one, whose life had been a course of trust- 
ing faith and heavenly-mindedness, "Though I 
change my place, I shall not change my company; 
for I have walked vdth God on earth while living, 
and after death I shall walk with Him in heaven.'* 
" We have found the Messias I" Nay, rather have 
we been found of Him as was Andrew ; for " all 


58 nEATEMLY MlMiM S mmBB . 

we as sbe^ hare gona mtnjy^ and Ha ciaiif to 
■Mk and to save Aoee that are loet 

** Jesus, Lamb once cracified 
To take our load of sins awaj, 
Thine be the hjmn that roQs its tide 
Along the reahns •£ upper daj." 

Seek and find us, frafl wanderers, Thon Shepherd 
Divine I and so, whether the meeting and greeting 
was in an hour of ease or of toil ; in an hour of joy 
or of anguish ; in the first, or sixth, or eleventh hour 
of life, we are safe, safe forevermore, and shall 
shine in unfading lustre in that grand Coronation- 
Daj, when every jewel shall sparkle with immortal 

A. B. a. 

HBAymxLT-MnnaiHinss. 66 


<* And confessed that thej were strangers and pilgrims on the 

HEEEFUL, O Lord I at Thy command, 

I bind my sandak on ; 
I tak^ my pUgrim's staff in lian3, 
And go to seek the better land, 

The way Thy feet have gone. 

I oft shall think, when on my way 

Some bitter grief I meet ; 
" This path hath echoed with His moan. 
And every rude and flinty stone. 

Hath bruised His bless&d feet" 

Fainting and sad along the road, 

Thou layest on my head, 
The hands they fastened to the tree. 
The hands that paid the price for me, 

The hands that brake the bread. 


Thou whisperest some pleasant word, 
I catch the much-loved tone ; 

I feel Thee near, my gracious Lord ! 

I know Thou keepest watch and ward, 
And all my grief is gone. 

From every mountain's rugged peak, 

He far-off land I know ; 
And from its fields of fadeless bloom, 
Come breezes laden with perfume, 

And fan my weary brow. 

There peaceful hills and holy vales 

Sleep in eternal day ; 
While rivers, deep and silent, glide 
Twixt meads and groves on either side. 

Through which the blessed stray. 

There He abides, who is of Heaven, . 

The loveliest and the best ; \ 

His face, when shall I gaze upon I 
Or share with' the belovM John 

The pillow of His breast I 


FENTD a beautiful description of tlie 
heavenly state in the statement of St. John, 
that he saw no temple there. It tells me 
there is no keeping of the earthly Sabbath, 
for all its days alike are holiness to the 
Lord ; and telling me this, it also tells me that if 
once admitted within the gates of pearl, ai^d pri- 
vileged to tread the streets of gold, 1 shall be free 
from remainder of corruption ; I shall no longer 
need external ordinances to remind me of my 
allegiance, and strengthen me for conflict; but 
that, made equal to the angels, I shall love God 
without wavering, and serve Qod without weari- 
ness. Therefore, however a human pencil, striving 
to delineate the heavenly Jerusalem, might have 
intermingled sanctuaries and palaces; and crowned 
the city with that diadem of towers which tells 
of dwelling-places, reared for Him whom the 
universe cannot contain ; there is more, far more, 
to me in the total want of sacred architecture^ 

than in the rich profosion of dome and steeple with 
which man wonld have crested the heayenly me- 
tropolis. And though poetry, if bidden to poor 
its melodies on the home of the saints, might have 
drawn its imagery from what is most celestial 
on earth, and have spoken of the courts of the 
Lord's house, and the tabernacles crowned with the 
mystic insignia of a present Deity — ^nothing could 
haye been so eloquent to me of the deep tranquil- 
lities and purities of heaven, and nothing could 
hare so told me of one uniform, doudless, blessed 
Sabbath, as the simple announcement of St. John, 
^^ And I saw no temple there." 

I PEAK to us ; thou art laid 
So calmly <mt to slumber, w€ might deem 
Thee smiling in some bright and happy 
Why didst thou fade 
With youth and joyance on thy radicmt brow! 
Fair spirit, thou art blest and haj^y now. 

The eardi was bright to tiiee ; 
Thou look'dst upon its sunshine And its flowen. 
And gttther'dst ^dness for the weary hours : 

Life's mystery • 
Of joy and sorrow it was thine to know ; 
What i>eart that speaketh not of bliss and woel 

A woman's soul was thine, 
And woman's nature on thy brow was seal'd ; 
And depths within thy spirit e'er revealed, 

As a pure shrine, 
The coxmtless treasures of affection's might, 
And changeless truth, unscathed by earthly blight. 


Still Bhedding a soft spell 
O'er the sweet sanctiutiy of hearth and home^ 
As a rich sunbeam on the ocean foam, 

So didst thou dwell, 
Amid thy cherished — a fair form of light, 
Beloved and loving as an angel bright. 

Thou restest now : the rush, 
The strife of being, are forever past ; 
And, calmly sheltered from the fearful blast. 

Thy joyous gush 
Of holy rapture and adoring love 
Ascendeth stiU to Him who reigns above. 

Farewell, farewell ! thy voice 
From earth hath parted, and its music deep 
Hath mingled with the lays that melt and steep 

In rapturous joys 
" Seraphic legions." Be it ours to dwell 
E'er with thee on that shore. — Farewell, farewell. 

HSA.T13rLT-lllNDEIMVX88. 65 

"gtum fat Itting f «lj. 

MAN wlio has been redeemed by the blood 
of the Son of God should be pure.. He 
who is an heir of life should be holy. He 
who is attended by celestial beings, and 
who is soon, he knows not how soon, to be 
translated to heaven, should be holy. Are angels 
my attendants ? then I should walk worthy of my 
companionship. Am I soon to go and dwell with 
angels? then I should be pure. Are these feet 
soon to tread the courts of heaven ? Is this tongue 
soon to unite with heayenly beings in praising 
God ? Are these eyes of mine soon to look on the 
throne of eternal glory, and on the ascended Re- 
deemer ? Then these feet, and eyes, and lips, should 
be pure and holy ; and I should be dead to the 
world, and live for heaven. 

Albert Babnss. 


S|ini0(tf ttt ftiliit, 

O fiickneBS tiiere, 

No weaFj waetiiig of the tnme awaj, 
No fearful Bhrinking from the midnight 

No dread of tumMer's bright and fervid 


No hiijdea grief, 

No wild and cheerless viBum of d^spaJT) 

No yain petition for a swift relief, 

No tearful eje, no broken hearti ar^ there, 

Care has no home 
Within that reakn of ceaseless prayer and son^ — 
Its tossing billows break and melt in foam, 
Far from the mansions of the spirit throng. 

Xbe 0torm's black wing 
Is never spread athwart celestial skies I 
Its waiUng blends not with the voice of spring, 
As some too tender floweret fades and dies. 

HBATBHZiT-MUlBteillli. 9ff 

No night distills 
Its chilling dews npon the tender frame ; 
No moon is needed there I the light which fills 
That land of glorj^ from its Maker came. 

No parted friends 
O'er mournful recollections have to weep ; 
No bed of death enduring love attends, 
To watch the coming of a pulseless sleep I 

No blasted flower 
Or withered bud, celestial gardens know ! 
No scorching blasts, or fierce descending shover, 
3c»tter8 destruction like a ruthless foe ] 

No battle word 
Startles the sacred host with fear and dread ; 
The song of peace Creation's morfiing heaid, 
Is sung wherever angel minstrels tread 1 

Let us depart, 
If home like this await the wearjr soul. 
Xook up, thou stricken one ; thy wounded heart 
Shall bleed no more at sorrow's stem control. 

With faith our guide, 
Whiterftobed a»d innocent, to trace tho way, 
Why fear to plimge in Jordan's rolling tiiie, 
AjmI fiad llu3 ocean of Eternal Day I 


)T is not for nothing that St John, representing 
the Jerusalem that is on high, saith that it is 
fall of the glory of Ood, and that its light is 
more sparkling than that of precious stones; 
that the wall thereof is jasper, the buildings 
of pure gold, like unto transparent glass ; the foun- 
dations thereof so njany quarries of precious 
stones ; that its twelve gates are twelve pearls, its 
streets paved with gold ; and that the Almighty, 
and the Lamb that accomplished our salvation, 
are tiie temple of 11 ; that it hath no need of the 
sun, or of the moon, for Ood enlightens it on all 
sides ; and the Lamb is that which makes it spar- 
kle with eternal light. Although these terms be 
prophetic and mysterious, their sense is never- 
theless a representation of a magnificence which 
cannot be expressed. And although it have a par- 
ticular regard to the light of knowledge, aud the 
perfect holiness of the church of God; never- 
theless, it includes the quality of its perfect happi- 
ness, and the beauty of its habitation. 



H, talk to me of heaven I I love 
To hear about my home above ; 
For there doth many a loved one dwell 
In light and joy ineflfable. 
Oh, tell me how they shine and sing, 
While every harp rings echoing ; 
And every glad and tearless eye, 
Beams like the bright sun, gloriously. 
Tell me of that victorious palm 
Each hand in glory beareth ; 
T^ll me of that celestial calm 
Each face in glory weareth. 

Oh, happy, happy country I where 

[Diere entereth not a sin : 

And death, who keeps its portals fair, 

May never once come in. 

No grief can change their day to night— 

The darkness of that land is light. 

Sorrow and sighing God hath sent 

From thence to endTesB banishments 

And nerer more may one dark tear, 

Bedim their bnming eyes ; 
For every one they shed while here. 

In fearful agonies, 
OUtters a bright and daggling gem, 
In their immortal diadem. 

Oh, loTely, blooming country I there 
Flonrishes all that we deem fair, 
And though no fields nor forests green, 
Nor bowery gardens there are seen, 

Nor perfumes load the breeze ; ^ 
Nor hears the ear material sound, 
Yet joys at Qod's right hand are found— 

The archetypes of these. 
There is the home, the land of birth, 
Of all we highest prize on earth ; 
The storms that rock this world beneath. 

Must there forever cease; 
The only air the bless^ breathe, 

Is puri^ and peace. 

Oh, happy, happy land ! in thee 
Shines the unveilM D^ty, 
Shedding through each adoring breast 
A holjr calm, a luifl^on rest 


And those blest souls wliom death did serer, 
Have met to mingle joys foreyer. 
Oh, soon may heaven imclose to me I 
Oh, may I &oon that gloiy see t 
And my faint, weary spirit stand 
Within that happy, happy land I 


James. Rosral IDoxnixiioxi. 

^ Grant unto ns that we maj dt, one on thy right hand, and the 
other on thj left hand, in thy glory.** 

)HE CHALCEDONY, or carbuncle, is the 
precious stone of the third foundation of the 
Zion on High, where it bears the signet of 
James. From its superb color, resembling a 
coal, red hot with fire, it seems a mogt appro- 
priate symbol of eoyal dominion, and, consequently, 
of the royal house of Judah, from which sprung our 
Lord Jesus Christ. Li the vision of Ezekiel, the 
Sacred Presence which occupied the throne of Sap- 
phire, was in the likeness of a flame of fire, and of 
great brightness. This brilliant gem, which 
bums radiantly even in the dark, is, by the 
Seventy, and others of the most reliable translators, 
styled the carbuncle. Ancient superstition attri- 
buted to it divers and excellent powers, especially 
that of resisting poison. For the enhancement of 
its dazzling glories, how. more advantageously could 

BOYAL DOMDaoir. 73 

it have been set, than between the celestial sap- 
phire and lovely emerald. 

Of the apostle Saint James, there appears on 
holy record no distinctly personcJ expression ; but 
on two separate occasions, we find him, in company 
with his brother John, making requests of the 
Saviour, although it is uncertain which was the 
spokesman, and in neither instance is the impres- 
sion created in our minds, of the most favorable 
kind. The replies of Jesus were intended not for 
their instruction only, but also for ours, "for in 
many things we offend all." Once they wished 
Him to permit them to call down fire, as did Elias, 
on some who failed to recognize their dignity ; and 
again, with an ambitious presumption which was 
encouraged by matamal solicitude, entreated of 
their Mast^ that He would confer on them a station 
m His kingdom, second but to His own. Between 
these characteristics, and the fiashing, fiery carbun- 
cle, we may trace some resemblance. James, truly, 
was granted his petition, for not long after the 
Ascension of his Lord to His throne, he was 
beheaded by Herod: thus achieving preeminence 
in a manner for which he looked not, and winning 
the first crown of martyrdom among his peers. 
The humility and gentleness inculcated by his Mas- 



ter, had their full effect upon him, as was seen in 
the sequel. It is said that when he was led to the 
place of execution, the officer who had guarded 
him to the tribunal, and who was also his accuser, 
having been converted by his conduct at the time 
of trial, fell down at the feet of the apostle, and 
entreated his forgiveness for what he had done. 
The holy martyr, tenderly embracing him, replied, 
^^ Peace, my son, peace be to thee and the pardon 
of thy faults I" The officer, thereupon, publicly 
declared himself a Christian, and both were 
beheaded together. How striking the contrast 
between this benedictory spirit, and bis early one 
of resentment I 

The bright red of the chalcedony may apfly 
serve to illustrate the zeal which animates the soul 
of every loyal Christian soldier while engaged in 
life's incessant warfare; and it may also be a 
figure of the hot persecutions through which the 
church in all ages has passed. Its dimless lustre 
may, furthermore, denote the quenchless glory of the 
Divine Eepresentative of the kingly house of Judah. 
A soul glowing with the ardor of the chalcedony, 
and tempered with the serene loveliness of the sap- 
phire, may soar above the ills of life — may smile 
unappalled upon the fury of the whirlwind, and 


sing, with steadfast voice, amid the billowy surges 
of Jordan. Many, like one of Banyan's Pilgrims, 
pass through that dreaded flood, singing a trium- 
phal chant, though none on tliis side may under- 
stand its import. Oh, Thou, who "before the 
mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst 
formed the earth and the world, even from everlast- 
ing to everlasting" hath swayed the sceptre of 
Royal Dominion, rule over our hearts now and for- 
evermore ! Thou, who boldest the key of the house 
of David, who openeth and no man shutteth ; and 
shntteth and no man openeth : " In all time of our 
tribulation ; in all time of our prosperity ; in the 
hour of Death, and in the Day of Judgment 
Good Lord, deliver us 1" 

A. 6. Q. 


*' The nations of them that are saTed shall walk in the light of 
It"— Rey. xxi— 24. 

*'Not the glitter and glory ; not the diamond and topaz ; no, it 
18 God; He is all and in alL"— Riohakd Watson. 

ALK in that light I"— Oh 1 who are they 
Whose feet shall tread that shining way ? 
Whose sight, undazzled, shall behold 
That pavement of transparent gold? 
By angels welcomed, who, oh 1 who 
Shall pass those pearly portals through, 
And brighten in the glorious blaze. 
Of that gemm'd city's sparkling rays t 

There walk the saved : but not in light, 

Of Sims in sevenfold lustre bright ; 

Uor peerless moonbeams' silent sheen, 

Keposing, soft, on velvet green : 

Nol nor where the hallowed radiance spreads, 

From golden lamps, o'er sainted heads, 

Within the temple ceaseless found. 

While walk the hours their silent round. 


There walk the saved : yes ! they who bore, 
While traversing life's stormy shore, 
Through tears of blood, the hallow'd cross ; 
Who, purged from earth's terrestrial dross, 
Received the Saviour's form impress'd, 
Whose signet, on each hallowed breast 
Enstamp'd the mystic name, unknown 
To all but those arouxid the throne. 

Who calm, 'midst earth's tumultuous strife, 
Drew from Himself that inward life 
Which spirits breathe, from sense apart ; 
While deep in each devoted heart, 
The formless glory dwelt serene. 
Of old, in cherub splendor se«i — 
Prelude of bliss reserved above, 
In perfect light, for perfect love. 

Now, all is heaven 1 no temple there 
Unfolds its gates; no voice of prayer 
From that bright multitude ascends ; 
But holy rapture, reverent, bends 
Before the Mediatorial throne; 
Before the Lamb I whose beams alone 
Irradiate that eternal sky ; 
The bursting blaze of Deity 1 


Soft ifl the voice of golden lutes ; 
Soft bloom heaven's ambrosial firuits; 
Bright beams the dazzling lustre shed, 
From radiant gems in order spread, 
From golden streets, from emerald floors, 
From crystal floods, and pearly doors, 
From rainbow tints, from angel's wings, 
And all unuttered glorious things. 

Yet, not that city's dazzling glow, 
Nor limpid water's crystal flow. 
Nor dulcet harmony that springs 
From golden lyres, nor angel's wings, 
Though glistening with intensest dyes, 
Reflected from immortal skies. 
Completes the palmy bliss of those 
On whom heaven's pearly portals close. 

No 1 'tis with imfilm'd eyes, to see 

The one incarnate Deity, 

Who still, in lamb-like meekness, bears 

Imprinted deep, those glorious scars. 

Whence issued wide that crimson flow 

In which their robes were washed below, 

Which bought that crown, whose splendor 

Now spheres them in a world of light I 

fiOTAL BOMmiOV. 79 

No I 'tis not all that heaven can show 
Of great) or fan*, unglimpsed below ; 
Nor converse deep with spirits high 
Who saw those volleyed lightnings fly 
Which scathed their bright compeers in bliss, 
And hurPd them down to hell's abyss ; 
Who marked creation rise sublime, 
And hymned the early birth of time : 

No 1 not with minds like these to blend, 
And feel each angel form a friend ; 
But Grod, their fount, to know and see ; 
From all-pervading DEnr 
To catch the nearer burst of light ; 
To gain the beatific sight ; 
Entranced in glory's peerless blaze, 
Conform'd to Him, on Hni to gaze. 

JuuEtS* BuLMEB* 


)HEN we saj that the state of the other 
world is unknown, the only meaning of 
it is, that it is^ state of such happiness, 
so far beyond anything that we ever yet 
experienced, that we cannot form any 
notion or idea of it. We know that there is such a 
happiness; we know, in some measure, -wherein 
such happiness consists; viz., in seeing God and 
the blessed Jesus, who loved us, and gave Jiimself 
for us ; in praising our Creator and Redeemer ; in 
conversing with saints and angels. But how great, 
how ravishing and transporting a pleasure this is, 
we cannot tell, because we never yet felt it. Now, 
methinks, this should not make the thoughts of 
death uneasy to us, should not make us unwilling 
to go to heaven, that the happiness of heaven is too 
great for us to know or to conceive in this world. 
For men are naturally fond of unknown and 
untried pleasures ; which is so far from being a dis- 
paragement to them, that it raises our expectatiouB 

BOTAI^ DOMnnoir. 81 

of them, that they are unknown. In the things of 
this world, enjoyment usually lessens our esteem 
and value for them, and we always value that most 
which we have never tried ; and methinks the hap- 
piness of the other world should not be the only 
thing we despise before we try it. It is some en- 
couragement to us that the happiness of heaven is 
too big to be known in this world j for did we per- 
fectly know it now, it could not be very great. 

Sberlock on DmOi. 


**The7 rest not day and night." 

HEY rest not day and night, 
Each honr the anthem Bwellfl ; 

With ever new delight, 
The tongue untiring dwellfl: — 

O holy, holy, holy Lord, 

Thou Father, Spirit, Word, 
Our humble voices hear. 

Still endless ages roll, 

And Time himself stands still; 
Still from the vaulted pole 

The listening ear shall fill : — 
Holy, holy, holy Lord, 
Thou Father, Spirit, Word, 

Our humble voices hear. 

Of worlds which deck tl\e sky. 

Each has its note of praise 
Joined in the melody 


Of Stars, which sing God's grace :— 
O holy God, give ear, 
While each revolving sphere, 

Conspires- the soul to raise. 

Through yon cathedral high, 

Whose architect is God, 
The blended echoes fly 

O'er hill, and plain, and flood :— 
O, holy, holy, holy Lord, 
Is still the ceaseless word 

Through all that bright abode. 

But best of all it comes 

From infant voices sweet ; 
From those whose happy homes 

Are at their Saviour's feet. 
And thus they look and sing. 
Admitting, as their voices ring, 

The wonders of His grace. 

They rest not day and night, 
Not would they lose one strain; 

For all things there unite 
To banish tears and pain — 

To catch the echo wild. 

So bold, so soft, so mild. 
To catch the heavenly straiiu 


While envious earth may blend 
Her diBcordfi in a swell, 

Nor evermore offend, 

With shouts of demonsrfell : 

The endless sonnd goes on, 

Aronnd the dazzling throne- 
That song they love so well. 

Bev. Thomas A. Cook. 


Lord, who ajrt the Light, the Way, the 
Truth, the Life ; in whom there is no dark- 
ness, error, vanity, nor death ; the Light, 
without which is darkness ; the Way, with- 
out which there is wandering; the Truth, 
without which there is error ; the Life, without which 
there is death ; say, Lord, let there be light, and I 
shall see light, and eschew darkness ; I shall see 
the way, and avoid wandering; I shall see truth, 
and shun error ; I shall see life, and escape death ; 
illuminate. Oh, illuminate my blind soul, which sit- 
teth in darkness and the shadow of death; and 
direct my feet in the way of peace. 

Saint AuGusTiisnB. 

86 BOTAL xxncnnoir. 

E, the Father infinite, 
Turning, addressed Messiah, where he sat 
Exalted glorionsly, at His right hand. 
This day belongs to Justice, and to Thee, 
Eternal Sonl Thy right for service done 
Abundantly fulfilling all my will ; 
By promise Thine, from all eternity. 
Made in the ancient Covenant of Grace ; 
AndTHiine, as most befitting, since in Thee 
Divine and human meet, impartial Judge, 
Consulting thus the interests of both. 
Go then, my Son, divine similitude I 
Image express, of Deity unseen ! 
The book of my remembrance take ; and take 
The golden crowns of life, due to the saints ; 
Thy armor take ; gird on thy sword, thy sword 
Of justice ultimate, reserved, till now 
Unsheathed, in the eternal armory ; 
And moimt the living chariot of Grod. 
Thou goest not now, as once to Calvary, 


To be insulted, buffeted, and slain ; 
Thou goest not now with battle, and the voice 
Of war, as once against the rebel hosts : 
Thou goest a Judge, and find'st the guilty bound : 
Thou goest to prove. Condemn, acquit, reward ; 
Not unaccompanied ; all these, my saints 
Go with Thee, glorious retinue ! to sing 
Thy triumph, and participate Thy joy ; 
And I, the Omnipresent with Thee go ; 
And with Thee, all the glory of my throne. 
* * * * * 

And all His saints, and all His angel bands, 
As, glorious, they on high ascended, sxmg 
Glory to God, and to the Lamb ! they sung 
Messiah fairer than the sons of men, 
And altogether lovely. "Grace is poured 
Into Thy lips, above all measure poured ; 
And therefore God hath blessed Thee evermore. 
Gird, gird Thy sword upon Thy thigh, O Thou 
Most Mighty ! with Thy glory ride ; with all 
Thy majesty, ride prosperously, because 
Of meekness, truth, and righteousness. Thy throne, 
O God, forever and forever stands : 
The sceptre of Thy kingdom still is right ; 
Therefore hath God, Thy God, anointed Thee, 
With oil of gladness, and perfumes of myrrh, 

88 BOTAL ixnoNioir. 

Out of the ivory palacee, aboye 
Thy fellows, crowned the Prince of Endless Peace.'* 
Thus sung they Grod, their Saviour ; and themselves, 
Prepared complete to enter now witb Christ, 
Their living Head, into the Holy Place. 

FoU*ck*i *^ OovM of TfBMb** 

** Because tiie darknefls is past, and the true light now shineth.^ 

^HE EMERALD or smaragdug is the pre- 
cious stone of the fourth foundation of the 
Celestial City, where it is sealed with the 
name of John. Among aU the precious 
minerals there is none other so gratefdl to 
the sight as the emerald, for its intense and admir- 
able greenness, entirely free from the admixture of 
either yellow or blue, and likewise for its pellucid 
clearness. To the wearied eye there is no color so 
refreshing or salutary as pure grass-green. When 
satiated with the gaudy beauties of the gay par- 
terre, gladly do we turn for relief to the cool ver- 
dure of the lawn. The emerald, by its- delightful 
color and brightness, seems to suggest its own 
interpretaticMi — ^REFEKsmNG Light. • In value it 
ranks nearly as high as the diamond, and it was 
considered as one of the choicest exerts of ancient 
Tyre. It used to be worn as an amulet and prized 
as a remedy for ^ilepsy. Kot an inapt symbol is 


it of the eternal verdure that borders the holy 
stream from which quaff the immactilate citizens. 
John, in his vision, beheld a rainbow aronnd 
about the throne, in sight like unto an emerald. 

St. John, being the fourth on the list of apostles, 
to him, therefore, is assigned this gem ; and appro- 
priately, too, for no other saint (except Paul) was 
ever favored, while yet in the body, by beholding- 
such refreshing and glorious scenes as was the 
beloved disciple. With the anticipation of these 
ineffable pleasures glowing warm within his soul, 
what must have been the exultation of John, when, 
at length, was given the signal that closed his toil- 
some pilgrimage of ninety years, consecrated from 
early manhood to the service of his divine Lord 1 
how joyfully was sped his flight to once more 
recline his weary head, silvered now with the frosts 
of age, on that adorable bosom where had been so 
often soothed his every sorrow 1 

From the representations of the early painters, 
we have in our minds, generally, a model of St. 
John as a fair* and beautiful youth with luxuriant 
flowing locks. And it is thus that we love to 
regard him ; to us he is a being of angelic comeli- 
ness. Such, in spirit, he remained until the end of 
his life. St. John seemed to be baptized with the 


fire of love; not a mere sentimentar emotion, but a 
vital, living principle. In sublimity he soars far 
above the other evangelists ; for while they begin 
by tracing the human lineage of our Lord, he at 
once opens with His essential Divinity. ''Little 
children, love one another," — often, when age and 
feebleness precluded his saying more to his beloved 
flock at Ephesus, — ^was the simple sentence that con- 
stituted his entire sermon. Perhaps the nearest 
assimulation in character, apart from inspiration— 
to the seraphic sweetness of John, was that of the 
distinguished Fletcher of Madeley, who seemed, 
even while on earth, to dwell in heaven. What 
supreme bliss must such sympathetic souls enjoy 
together to all eternity ! May we, the bewildering 
labyrinths of this world traversed, be so happy as 
to roam with our loved ones the green delicious 
meads of the Paradise of God! May we, worn 
wayfarers, the darkness of sin and of the grave for- 
ever past, be permitted to bask in the refulgence of 
the true light that shineth forever, and irradiates 
with its fadeless beams the immortal regions ! Said 
a gifted yoimg American artist, when dying, not 
long since, at Florence, "I am journeying to a 
strange country, but oh, how beautiful !". and 
expired, humming a favorite Spanish melody. 

^^ These flowers are very beautifdl," said another 
young artist, to one, who, the day before his depar- 
ture hence brought him some winter roses ; '' but I 
am going to a country where the flowers never 
fade.*' And a third young son of genius whispered 
to me when the power of swallowing had failed 
him, " I am thirsty ; the waters of life will be eo 
sweet." But a very brief space elapsed ere the 
Shepherd Divine was leading him through green 
pastures and by the still waters. 

O blessed, thrice blessed hour 1 when, the dream 
of life with its manifold fluctuations all over, its 
pains, sorrows, and disappointments forever van- 
'ished away, we behold the Eternal City, all iri- 
descent with gems and burnished gold! When, 
advancing to hail us with glad welcomes, we espy 
the dear ones, whom here below, with swelling 
hearts and many a bitter lamentation, we consigned 
to the tomb I Sing aloud, dimib heart I cease thy 
moan, sad spirit I that moment alone of transport 
will suffice to recompense thee for ages of earth- 
bom grief 1 Light Supreme, so guide us through 
this darksome wild, " that through the grave, and 
gate of death," we may, in the Great Day of Har- 
vest Home, " pass to our joyful resurrection I" 

BErSBflHIK0 LiaBT. 98 

|T sky^s imveaed ; ^ 

My saints' sweet home bursts on my 
ravish'd sight ; 
I see it, and my eye, imsealed, 
Turns towards its holy light. 

Tis not a dream, 
But 'tis a bright and blessed reality ; 

Its brilliant glories o'er me gleam ; 
My vision's clear 

The conflict's o'er ; 
And the fierce, fiery, hard-won fight is past ; 

My vanquish'd foes will rise no more ; 
The victory's gained at last. 

The night is gone ; 
The deepening shadows all forever fled, 

And the blest light of that clear sun 
Now shineth on my head. 

Tm basking now 
In light that never beamed on mortal eye; 


Ambrosial zephyrs fan my brow ; 
Sweet fields before me lie. 

Oh, this is bliss 1 
I tread upon ImmanneFs promised land ; 

Forms of imrivalled loveliness 
Around me smiling stand. 

I hear the sound 
Of voices blending in angelic strains ; 

And the sweet cadence wafted round, 
Rolls o'er the heavenly plains. 

My spirit thrills 
With holy rapture never felt before, 

And peace my ransomed being fills, 
That fioweth evermore. 

Jerusalem is here — 
. Oh, how its bumish'd courts do shine ! 

Glittering with beauty, gems most clear. 
And pearls — and all is mine I 

And this is heaven I 
Long, long lost friends are coming ^t my call ; 

Eternal life to me is given, 
And God is all in alL 


LATE young gentleman, of Pittsbnrg, 
remarked, when he was dying, " Mother, 
I can see a great distance!" Doubtless 
this is the experience, beautifully ex- 
pressed, of every one who comes with 
a chastened faith to a calm death-bed. In his pro- 
gress through ordinary life, the vapors that float 
in the mental atmosphere render the vision imper- 
fect, and he cannot see afar off ; but as he draws 
near eternity, the air grows purer, the light brighter, 
the vision clearer, and the serenity pervades the 
whole being ; the vista of futurity opens upon the 
eyes of the soul ; he beholds the gates of heaven, the 
river of life, its glad waters kissing the footsteps 
of the throne of God ; the glories of the new world 
grow brighter and brighter upon him. With 
Stephen, he beholds Jesus at the right hand of His 
Father; and as he dwells with rapture on those 
enlivening sights, the earth and all its scenery 


grow dim about him, and, like Elisha's seryant at 
the gate of Damascus, he is instantly environed 
with troops of angels, come to take him np oyer 
the everlasting hills in the chariot of the Lord. 

Vt. Ohbon. 


^T GOD, I love to meditate on Thee — 
To think upon Thy works, Thy words, 
Thy ways ; 
And in another world my work shall be 
To bless Thy name, to dwell upon Thy 
I love to think npon that world of light 

Where Jesus reigns— that better world above, 
Where faith and hope are perfected in sight ; 
Where Thon art known in tmth and served in 

The snrges beat not on that happy shore; 

No wave of sorrow there shall ever rise ; 
For sin in all its forms is known no more. 

And death, with all its power, forever dies. 
Mortality's sad tears have ceased to flow ; 

Tumnltnons passions and corroding care, 
With all that agitates this scene below, 

Oan to no bosom find admission there. 


There all is righteousness, and peace, and joy ; 

Those who have labored enter into rest — 
A rest no adversary shall destroy, 

No enemy shall enter to molest. 
Eich, incorruptible, and undefiled. 

Is that inheritance so freely given 
To every one, who, as a little child. 

Has humbly sought and walk'd the way to 

One Blessed Spirit binds the happy band. 

Whose feet, while here, in faith and patience trod 
The narrow way to that delightsome land — 

It is the Spirit of the Lord their God. 
Perfect in knowledge, they behold Thy face, 

Thou God of Truth, in glory, and adore ; 
Perfect in love with Thee, the God of grace, 

And with each other, one forevermore. 

Pure is thjeir light, refulgent, yet serene ; 

The cheering atmosphere they breathe on high ; 
No shade of gloom shall ever intervene. 

To darken over their unclouded sky. 
Oh, blessed hope of everlasting life 1 

My soul's anticipation day by day ; 
TiU from this changing world and all its strife, 

To that far better world she soars away. 


I HE was a fair child, with masses of long 
black hair lying over her pillow. Her eye 
was dark and piercing, and as it met mine 
she startled slightly, but smiled and looked 
upward. I spoke a few words to her father, 
and turning to her, asked her if she knew her con- 

" I know that my Eedeemer liveth," said she, in 
a voice whose melody was like the sweetest strain of 
the JEolian harp. You may imagine that the answer 
startled me, and with a very few words of the like 
import, I turned from her. A half hour passed, 
and she spoke in the same deep, rich, melodious 
voice — 

"Fa&er, lam cold — ^lie down beside me;" and 
the old man lay down by his dying child, and she 
twined her arms around his neck, and murmured 
in a dreamy voice, " Dear father, dear father 1" 

"My child," said the man, " doth the flood seem 
deep to thee i" 


"Nay, father, for my soul is strong/' 

" Seest thou the thither shore V^ 

" I see it, father — and its banks are green with 
immortal verdure." 

" Hearest thon the Yoiqies of its inhabitants ?" 

"I hear them, father, as the voices of angels, 
falling from afar in the still and solemn night-time ; 
and they call me — ^her voice, too, father, oh, I 
heard it then.'' 

" Doth she speak to thee i^ 

** She speakcth in tones most heavenly." 

"Doth she smile r 

" An angel smile I But a cold, calm smile. Sut 
I am cold, cold — cold I Father, there is a mist in 
the room. You'll be lonely. Is this death 

" It is death, my Mary." 

" Thank God 1" 

Sabbath evening came, and a slow, sad proces- 
sion wound through the forest to the- little school- 
house. There, with simple rites, the good clergy- 
man performed his duty, and went to the grave. 
The procession was short. There were hardy men 
and rough, in shooting jackets, and some with rifles 
on their shoulders. But their warm hearts gave 
beauty to their unshaven faces, as tiiey stood in 

BERSBSHnra light. 101 

reverent silence by the grave. The river murmnred 
and the birds sung, and so we buried her. 

I saw the sun go down from the same spot — and 
the stars were bright before I left — ^for I always 
had an idea that a grave-yard was the nearest place 
to heaven on earth — and, with old Sir Thomas 
Brown, I love to see a church in a grave-yard^ for 
even as we pass through the place of graves to the 
Temple of God on earth, so we must pass through 
the grave to the Temple of God on high. 

109 BPTMWMTWft uosr. 

%\t f aiA to|[ir|[ wr portal mn liwrtir* 

HOUGH Earth has full many a beantiM 
As a poet or painter might show ; 
Yet more lovely and beautiful, holy and 

To the hopes of the heart, and the spirit's glad 
Is the Land that no mortal may know. 

There the crystalline stream, bursting forth from 
the throne, 

Flows on, and forever will flow ; 
Its waves, as they roll, are with melody rife. 
And its waters are sparkling with beauty and life. 

In the Land which no mortal may know. 

And there on its mieu-gin, with leaves ever green, 
With its fruits healing sickness and woe. 

The fair Tree of Life ! in its glory and pride, 

Is fed by the deep, inexhaustible tide. 
On the Land which no mortal may know. 


There, too, are the lostl whom we lov'd on this 

With those mem'ries our bosoms yet glow ; 
Their reliques we gave to the place of the dead. 
But their glorified spirits before us have fled 

To the Land which no mortal may know. 

There the pale orb of Mght, and the fountain of 

Nor beauty nor splendor bestow ; 
But the presence of BDim, the unchanging I Am I 
And the holy, the pure, the immaculate Lamb I 

Light the Land which no mortal may know. 

Oh, who must but pine in this dark vale of tears, 

From its clouds and its shadows to go ; 
To walk in the light of the glory above. 
And to share in the peace, and the joy, and the love, 
Of the Land which no mortal may know. 

Bernard Babton. 


f OTipg far t\i ftabMs ^^2- 

)ET us advance on the way of life, and return 
to the heavenly city, where we shall be 
fellow-citizens, and of the household of God. 
Let us gaze on its glory so far as we can 
with mortal vision. It stands written of it, 
that sorrow and sighing shall flee away. There 
is no age, nor toil of age, for all have come to the 
stature of perfect men in Christ. What can be 
happier than such a life, where there is no poverty 
to fear, no sickness to suffer, where no one will 
hurt, none is angry, no impure passion excites, no 
hunger gnaws, no ambition torments, no devil ter- 
rifies, no hell threatens? Evil and strife are far 
away. Peace and joy evermore reign. The night 
is far spent, the clouds scatter, an illustrious day is 
breaking, for that city needs no sun, nor moon, 
but the glory of the Lord shall enlighten it, and 
the Lamb is the light of it. Why do we not 
hasten in faith and love to our native land ? A 
great multitude there awaits us. What joy, whp ? 


jubilee for them and for ns, when we can again 
see and embrace theml Well, then, let ii8 look 
imto Christ. He is the Author of Salyation, and 
Prince of light ; the Source of joy. 



\EOTHER, thou art gone before ns, and thy 
eaintlj soul is flown 
Where tears are wiped from every eye, and 
sorrow is unknown ; 
^ From the burden of the flesh, and from 
care and fear released, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
weary are at rest. 

The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er, and borne 

the heavy load. 
But Christ hath taught thy languid feet to reach 

His blest abode, 
Thou'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus upon his 

Father's breast, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the 

weary are at rest. 

Sin can never taint thee now, nor doubt thy faith 

^or thy meek trust in Jesus Christ, and the Holy 

Spirit, fail, 


And now thou'rt sure the good, whom on 

earth thou lovest best, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the 

weary are at rest. 

" Earth to earth," and " dust to dust," the solemn 
priest hath said, 

So we lay the turf above thee now, and seal thy 
narrow bed ; 

But thy spirit, brother, soars away among the faith- 
ful blest. 

Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
weary are at rest. 

And when the Lord shall summon us, whom thou 
hast left behind. 

May we, untainted by the world, as sure a welcome 

May each, like thee, depart in peace, to be a glori- 
ous guest. 

Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
weary are at rest 1 

Eev. Db. Milman. 


Irtpratimi fax ^tn\. 

)HEN' you lie down at night, compose yonr 
spiritfl -as if you were not to awake till 
the heavens be no more. And when you 
awake in the morning, consider that new 
day as your last, and live accordingly. 
Surely that night cometh of which you will never 
see the morning, or that morning of which you 
will never see the night ; but which of your morn- 
ings or nights wiU be such, you know not. Let 
the mantle of worldly enjoyment hang loose about 
you, that it may be easily di'opped when death 
comes to carry you into another world. When 
the com is forsaking the ground, it is ready for 
the sickle : when the fruit is ripe it falls off the 
tree easily. So when a Christian's heart is truly 
weaned from the world, he is prepared for death, 
and it will be the more easy for him. A heart disen- 
gaged from the world is a heavenly one, and then 
we are ready for heaven, when our heart is there 
before us. 


I*liilip. Xiove. 

" Lord, shew us the Father, and if sufficeth us.*' 

)HE SAEDONYX is the precious stone of 
the fifth foundation of the Paradise of Grod, 
where it bears the name of PhiKp. The 
onyx, a gem translucent, derived its appel- 
lation from the finger-nail, which it resem- 
bles, being of a pale red with white zones. The 
prefix, sard, may denote either an admixture of the 
sardius, or its native country, Sardis, a city of 
Asia. In ascribing to this gem the interpretation 
Love, I have been guided by the perfect character 
of Joseph, whose name it bore on the Breast-Plate, 
the most generous and affectionate mortal who 
ever rendered immortal the title of brother. That 
the onyx, which is sometimes also called the 
banded agate, was very highly valued, is obvious 
from the sacred purposes to which it was dedicated. 
Besides occupying the eleventh place upon the 
Breast-Plate, of this gem were also made the two 


110 LOVIU 

large buttons or brooches set in sockets of gold and 
engraven with the names of the twelve sons of 
Jacob, which were fastened on the shoulders of 
Aaron's priestly robe. As has been previously 
observed, these poetical significations of the pre- 
cious stones under consideration, are not offered 
as positive deductions from either Holy Writ, or the 
opinions of Commentators ; but as inferences drawn 
from their own qualities and those of the personages 
whom they typify. Analogies, however ingenious 
we mnst be warjr of carrying too far, lest we 
infringe upon sacred boundaries, and a laudable 
spirit of inquiry degenerate into unwarrantable 
conceits ; — ^but, amid the towering palm-trees and 
spreading cedars of Scripture truth, does it appear 
amiss or irreverent, that its minor objects of revela- 
tion — ^its fragrant incense — its resounding harmonies 
— ^its lovely flowerets, and resplendent gems, 
should be viewed as the beautiful clouds, and airs, 
and blossoms, and jewels, that intermingle with and 
decorate their branches ? K so, perish every such 
fanciful imagination! But I cannot deem these 
meditations, or any other that tend to celestialize 
the mind, unlawful. 

Love is the brightest of all the fair sisterhood of 
graces. Love is the fountain undefiled, whence 

uy^v. ^ 111 

flow all pleasant waters. Love is a never-failmg 
Bpring of contentment both to its minister and to 
its receiver. ** Grod is love," saith John ; and the 
testimony of Panl is: "And now abideth fiiith, 
hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of 
these is charity" (love). Love to the person of 
Christ, the altogether lovely, more than a clear c(m- 
viction of His Divine mission, appears to have 
actuated many of the disciples in following Him ; 
nor until after His Kesurrection and Ascension, were 
their minds fully established in respect to the real 
nature of His Kingdom and Eeign. " Lord, shew 
us the Father, and it sufficeth us," said St. Philip ; 
and we marvel much at the obtuseness manifested 
by this man who had been witness of so many 
signs and wonders. From our hearts the petition 
is one that may with perfect propriety arise. As 
Jesus Christ promises that upon him who over- 
cometh the world. He will write the name of His 
God, the name of the city of His God, and His 
own new name — all genuine believers may be con- 
sidered as sealed with the mystical characters 
which adorn the gems of the Upper Zion. " His 
name shall be in their foreheads." Are we 
marked? One with Love, another with Humility, 
another with Heavenly-Mindedness, another with 

119 LOTS. 

Truth? do we each bear a divine hieroglyph? K 
not, let hb implore Him, the radiant gxdding-star of 
Love, that, ere the going down of the sun. He seal 
ns with Hjb royal dgnet And thns, when the 
heavens wax old, and are folded up as a vesture, 
we shall be exulting m Love Divine amid the shin- 
ing ranks of the Blessed I 

A. B. a. 

LOTS. 118 

) 'VE come, Pve come, from the spirit's land, 
And a treasured song is mine ; 
I bear for the wonnded heart a babn, 
And a joy for those that pine. 

The friends that ye bade on earth " good bye,'' 

With cheeks so pale and wan. 
They are there in the light of a cloudless sky, 

And their all of grief is done. 

The chieftain that left his bow unstrung, 

The sage with his locks of snow. 
And the maid whose voice like the nightbird'srung. 

In its plaintiyeness of woe ; 

And the youth with the laughing eye is there, 

And the mother who left her babe 
Swinging to and fro in the summer air. 

Beneath the sycamore's shade. 

114 LO^B. 

They sit on the banks where the bright flowers 
And they dream not of toil nor pain ; 
For they've drank of the fonnt with the golden 
They hare drank — ^and are young again. 

Arid they bade me speed with my glittering wing, 
From the realm of the nightless day, 

To the dim old groves where they loved to sing. 
And thus to the monming say : 

We tune our harps by the bright blue streams, 

That lave on a gem-clad shore ; 
And our lives are sweet as an infant's dreams. 

And we sigh not, nor weep we more. 

We are changed from the sick and the sad of earth, 

To a band that know not care ; 
But our hearts still yearn toward our native hearth, 

And the friends we loved while there. 

"We watch ye, friends, when the night-winds breath 

Lies hushed over moor and hill: 
For love extends past the bourne of death — 

We have loved and we love ye still. 

ijcrn. lis 

We are there imseen by the home-fire's blaze, 

As our tales ye repeat again : 
When ye sing the song of other days-^ 

We are there, and we bless ye then* 

And we hover o'er when the hour of prayer 

Comes on, at the close of even — 
Midst the hallowed family band we're there. 

And we bear those prayers to Heaven, 

Edwabd Toung, Esq. 

116 LOTS. 

)MIJST confess, as the experience of my own 
sonl, that the expectation of loving my 
friends in heaven principally kindles my 
love to them while on earth. If I thought I 
should never know them, and, consequently, 
never love them after this life is ended, I should 
number them with temporal things, and love them 
as such ; but now I delightfully converse with my 
pious Mends, in a firm persuasion that I shall con- 
verse with them forever; and I take comfort in 
those that are dead or absent, believing that I shall 
shortly meet them in heaven and love them with a 
heavenly love. 


LOVB. 117 

$ Mtt fxm IwlTttt. 

) SHINE in the light of God, 
His image stamps my brow, 
Through the shadows of death my feet have 
I reign in glory now ; 
No breaking heart is here, 

No keen and thrilling pain, 
No wasted cheek where the frequent tear 
Hath rolled and left its stain. 

I have found the joys of heaven, 

I am one of the angel band, 
To my head a crown of gold is given. 

And a harp is in my hand ; 
I have leam'd the song tliey sing. 

Whom Jesus hath set free. 
And the glorious walls of heaven still ring, 

With my new-bom melody. 

No sins, no griefs, no pains, 
Safe in my happy home. 


My fears all fled, my foes all slain. 

My hour of triumph come ; 
Oh, friends of my mortal years, 

The trusted and the true ! 
Ye are walking still through the vale of tears, 

But I wait to welcome you. 

Do I forget ? Ah, no I 

For memory's golden chain 
Shall bind my heart to the hearts below, 

Till they meet and touch again ; 
Each link is strong and bright. 

And love's eclectic flame 
Flows freely down like a river of light, 

To the world from which I came. 

Do you mourn when another star 

Shines out from the glittering sky? 
Do you weep, when the raging voice of war, 

Or the storms of conflict die ? 
Then why should your tears run down, 

And your hearts be sorely riven, 
For another gem in the Saviour's crown. 

And another soul in Heaven ! 


«»|»t mt Single ihm," 

"N old negro in the West Indies, residing at 
a considerable distance from the missis mary, 
l>iit exceedingly desirous of learning to 
read the Biblej came to Iiim regularly for a 
lesson- He made but little progressj and 
his teachePj almost disheartened, intimated his fears 
that his labors wonld be lost, and asked him, ^' Had 
you not better give it over !" " No massa,'" Bald he, 
with great energy^ " Me never give it over till me 
die ;" and, pointing with his fmger to John, third 
chapter J and sixteenth verse : " God so loved the 
world/' etc., added, with touching emphasis ; "It 
XB worth all de labor to be able to read dat one sin- 
gle verse i" 

190 LOVB. 

OW could they tell me she was dead, 
"With such a calm cold tone, 
She whom I loved beyond my life, 

My precious one, my own ? 
And yet they did not know that she, 
The lost one, was so dear to me. 

I heard it with a pale, calm cheek, 

No tear was in my eye ; 
I could not bear that men should look 

Upon my agony ; 
And so I coldly turned away. 
Almost as carelessly as they. 

I wonder if they've planted flowers 

Above her early bed — 
I wonder if the mourning tree 

Sighs sadly o'er her head ; 
Or if kind friends are there to weep. 
Above her calm and dreamless sleep. 


And who were neftr to lay their hands 

Upon her burning brow, 
And speak those words of hope and cheer 

That would be mock'ry now? 
Or point her feeble faith to Thee, 
Thou who wast slain on Calvary ? 

I know not if they're planted flowers 

Above her earthly bed ; 
I know not if the mourning tree 

Sighs sadly o'er her head ; 
Or if kind frien<b are there to weep 
Above her calm and dreamless sleep. 

But in my heart there was a fount 

Of bitter, gushing woe ; 
I sought to be alone, that tears 

From my sad eyes should flow ; 
But tears — ^the tide of lesser grief, 
Eefased to lend their calm relief. 

She was so dear to me — so good. 

So beautifal and fair — 
With her kind eyes and pleasant smile, 

And her soft waving hair I 
And she to die, nor I be there 
To listen to her latest prayer I 

128 LOTS. 

I only know that I am Bad, 

So desolate and lone : 
The world has snch a weary look, 

And snch an altered tone t 
And yet I feel how worse than vain, 
The wish to call her back again. 

I know that mine's a selfish grie^ 

For she is happy now ; 
The stamp of immortality 

Is on her angel brow. 
Tet Ml my heoH keepa sighing ar^ 
And asking for the loved a/nd gone. 

LOVE. 123 

) Ej the Blessed and All-glorioue Deity, whose 
presence ie joy, and bliss, and Heaven, shall 
^^ be the Life, the Light, the Praise of the 
*^^ New Jerusalem, and all its divine inhabit- 
ants 1 Love shall reign trinmphant in every 
heart ; every pnre and celeBtial desire shall be gra- 
tified to the fall; every holy and devont affection 
ehall find its adeqnatc supply ; and one nniutaiv 
mpted Bcene of happiness, serenity, and comforl^ 
shall smile eteiTially, and eternally be found ; 
where the harps of ten thousand times ten thousand 
shall ceaselessly hymn the Father of MercieB, and 
the Lamb who sitteth on the throne forever and 

De- Dodd, 



Star joff f 0lit 

,Y SAVIOUR, can I foUow ihee, 
When all is dark before ; 
While midnight rests npon the sea, 
How can I reach the shore ? 

Oh, let thy Star of Love bnt shine, 
Thongh with a feeble ray ; 

TNnll gild the edge of every ware, 
And light my gloomy way. 

Then gladly will I follow Thee, 
Thongh hnrricanes appear ; 

Singing sweet carols o'er the sea, 
A cheerfnl mariner. 



%\t §mMx St |rais«. 

" And wten tbej liad Bimg a hymn they went into the Mount of 

>USIC in the Christian Church dates from 
Passion Week^ when the Saviour himself 
sung a hymn with his disciples the night 
preceding his crucifixion. Tliere is no 
donbt that they sung one of the Psahns of 
David, as they had been accustomed to do in the 
synagogue ; and perchance it was one of those very 
ones relating to Him who was now about to be 
offered up in fulfillment of prophecy- No other 
words than the plain Psalms were introduced into 
the church until after the lapse of Beveral centuries. 
With them were celebrated the victories of Cou- 
stantine, and all other grand occasions. Sacred 
fiong was a source of delight and solace to die early 
Christians. Martyrs have sung amid the flames^ 
and, in the height of then: most exquisite agonies, 
the chords of their spirits have vibrated to the 

126 LOVE. 

seraphic anthems of Paradise. What a graphic 
expression is that of St. Ambrose : 

" The noble anny of martjrs praise Thee !" 

for who so worthy to pour forth songs of adoration 
and triumph as they "who had come through 
great tribulation 1" What dread of their persecu- 
tors could repress the glowing strains of the de- 
voted Vaudois, when, amid hunger, cold, and deso- 
lation, they meet to worship the living Jehovah, 
although the myrmidons of Rome, like hungry 
wolves, were on their track, even to their moun- 
tain fastnesses ? Or the Scottish Covenanters, whose 
hymns ofttimes betrayed to the enemy their hiding- 
places? Their music was with them a religious 
duty, and it ceased but with their lives. Ceased ? 
No ; it only paused on earth to be resumed in lof- 
tier, sweeter strains above. Many persons, in the 
hour of death, when the power of language had 
long failed, have given vent to their ecstasy in 
exultant melodies, as if in echo to the " seraph's 
sweet song.'' One young lady, whose voice during 
several hours preceding dissolution, had been 
entirely hushed, just as her eyes were closing 
forever on all below, sung distinctly these touching 

LOVE. 127 

••There I shall bathe my weary soul 
In seas of heavenly rest, 
And not a wave of trouble roll, 
Across my peaceful breast." 

What a beautiftil valedictory to earth I 
"It is well becoming that melody be poured 
forth when a redeemed spirit is pluming its wings, 
ready to depart." There is an affecting circum- 
stance related of a lovely young girl, sister-in-law 
of the celebrated Sheridan, who was called hence 
in early youth just before the time appointed for 
her debut as a public singer. A short time prior to 
her departure, she raised herself up in the bed, and 
with momentary and surprising animation sung a 
part of the aria, "I know that my RBDEEaiEE 
LrvETH." Exhausted by the effort, she sunk into 
ihe arms of her attendant, and shortly afterwards 
breathed her last. 

A. B. Gasbett. 

128 X4>TS. 

** We Mil wm meet agun.^ 

)1T±1 the blessed hope of everlasting life, 
To buoy and bear the sinking spirit 
Who would not bravely brook timers 
sternest strife, 
And drain the deepest dregs of sorrow's cup f 
In this transporting trust, bright through the mist 

of tears, 
I see the vista ope of heaven's supernal years. 

The garden of my soul, from its fair banks, 
Once rich in flowers and fragrance fresh and 
Where love and beauty graced the stately ranks. 
And wooed the heart to dalliance of de- 
From this charmed haunt of peace, like meteor- 
stars away, 
I've seen each glory fall, and droop into decay. 

LOVB. 129 

*' We all will meet again V^ — ^the parting words 
. Traced by thy faltering hand ; while thy calm 

Gt&ve token none of death, nor that the chords 
Thrilling thy heart's strings — ^heart so jfree of 
guile — 
"Were by dark Azrael struck. This precious 

In my sad heart, beloved, treasured for aye shall be. 

"We all will meet again 1" — ^how could we deem 
Midway thy feet were then in Jordan's flood? 
E'en then; — ^though in thy bearing naught did 

• To note the sudden call to meet thy God. 
This thy adieu to time — ^this prophecy of love, 
As earnest I embrace of joys assured above. 

To meet again 1 Oh, hope serene and high, 

Quickening the soul to rapture ! 'neath that 


lit by the Godhead's glory ; where no sigh 

E'er grieves the echo, dearest, be our home I 

And ours to meet and mingle with the ransomed 


Who, robed in light, their King extol in swelling 



180 LOVB. 

<^We all will meet again!" 'neath the green 
That wraps our kindred — ^may our ashes blend 
In peaceful' sleep ; till the world, waxen old 
And ripe for harvest, totters to its end : 
Not such the meeting pictured by my longing 

Not such ; my thoughts rush on till life from death 
shall start 

" We all will meet again 1" when the loud trump 
To judgment summons all the slumbering host ; 
When the Judge, shrined in heaven's tremendous 
Cites to His bar the rescued and the lost ! • 
Shall we His smile receive, the benison of the blest. 
And hear the welcome words " enter into my rest t" 

" We all will meet again 1" as sinners saved, 

And clad in robes of Christ — ^his Kighteous- 
All clean and white, in His free fountain laved! 
• Be ours, such radiant resurrection dress I 
Were not my trust to greet thee on that halcyon 

Pear heart, this soul were stricken, grief could do 
no more. 

LOVE. 131 

** We all will meet again 1" by the blue stream 

That murmurs music through the perfumed 
street ? 
Strong in such hallowed hope, my every dream 
In pain, in trial, life, or death were sweet. 
Shall we thus meet, beloved, no parting more to 

Where every sound is euphony and look is love ? 

To meet within those walls of gorgeous blaze, 
That forum paved with gold and crystal 
Those gates of purest pearl, whose softer rays 
Ne'er daze the eyes undimmed by time or 
Where bloom the golden fruits — ^where sparkles 

purple wine ; 
For such immortal fare who would not earth re- 

To meet again 1 where fond aflFection's ties 
No more shall sundrance dread; nor warm 
lips chill ; 
Nor blushing cheeks know blight ; nor from dear 
The love-light fade away ; nor pulse grow still ; 

183 LOTS. 

Oh, plains of matcUess bliss I oh, smmmts 

crowned with peace 1 
Shall we all muster there, where sorrows ever 

cease ? 

Memory and Hope, twin gifts of buried Love, 
Twixt which the heart vibrates 1 withouten 
life were a voiceless void ; — nor from above 
One star would shine ; no retrospection please ; 
Memory chaunts requiem for the pleasance passed 

And holy Hope points smiling to eternal day. 

Master, Ah Christ I who, through the darksome 
And gate of Death, Thy throne didst reas- 
sume — 
Pleading Thy Passion, cry we, save, oh, save 
Us, and all ours, in the dread Day of Doom 1 
Leaning on Thee, our Staff — so will we meet again. 
Singing the saints' sweet song; Amen, good Lord, 
Amen I 

Augusta Browne Gabbett. 

Sartlioloxne'^. H-omility. 

" Rabbi, thou art the Son of God, thou art the King of Israel" 

J HE SARDIUS, or cornelian, is the precious 
stone of the sixth foundation of the hea- 
venly Eden, where it is sealed with the 
name of Bartholomew. This familiar red 
stone, styled by mineralogists, from its re- 
semblance to bleeding flesh, the ca/meol/uSy was con- 
sidered to be singularly efficacious in healing 
various diseases ; and was also held in great repute 
for seals and ornaments, on account of its suscepti- 
bility of receiving a beautiful polish, and its excel- 
lent solidity, which rendered it a good subject for 
the burin of the artist. Many of the finest speci- 
mens of antique seals and medallions are made of 
this gem. It is considered by an author, whom 
there is no reason to dispute, the emblem of 
HuMiLrrY ; and his opinion is founded principally 
on the history of Reuben, to whom it appertained 
on the Breast-Plate, and partly on the eminent and 


134 TUMILITr. 

rare qualities tradition ascribes to the stone. TBe 
cornelian is placed in pleasing contrast to its neigb- 
bors ; on the one side, the pale and elegant sar- 
donyx, and on the other, the brilliant diamond, 
flashing its exuberant glories on all around. 
Humility supported by Love and Truth. Eed is 
the color of salvation, and to the aflFecting 
humility and sacrifice of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
the Saviour of the world, we owe our redemp- 
tion from eternal ruin, and our only hope of 
heaven. • 

The Confession of Faith uttered by St. Bartholo- 
mew — otherwise called Nathaniel, the man in 
whom was no guile — ^when the Saviour was made 
known to him, was spontaneous and emphatic: 
"Eabbi, thou art the Son of God, thou art the 
King of Israel 1" 

How suggestive of our humanity is the cornelian 
in its resemblance to ensanguined flesh I and what 
an eloquent type of our often-recurring trials, and 
ofttimes pierced hearts! Very consoling in the 
hour of the spirit's desolateness is the conviction 
that we have a Divine sympathizer, one who is 
" touched with a feeling of our infirmities ;" for, 
verily, a voluntary partaker therein, "He hath 
borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows ;" truly, 


" He was wounded for our transgressions, He was 
bruised for our iniquities." The mother-grace, 
humility, is the fittest ornament for those who pro- 
fess to be disciples of Him who was " meek and 
lowly of heart." Says an old Quaker poet : 

** Humility the spring of rirtue is ; 
Humbling thyself, Tirtue thou canst not miss." 

Humility, like the modest violet, seeks the shade, 
and loves to nestle within a sheltered covert. Yet, 
not inactive or selfish through the plenitude of its 
own content, it joys to contribute to the general 
welfare, and sends forth, on each passing breeze, its 
sweet and salutary influences. An humble sphere 
is ever the most conducive to the attainment of 
•heavenly greatness. Good Mr. Flavel writes: 
" How dreadful was the situation of Pius Quintus, 
who died crying out despairingly, ^ When I was in 
a low condition, I had some hopes of Salvation ; 
when I was advanced to be a cardinal, I greatly 
doubted ; but since I came to the popedom, I have 
no hope at all 1' " He that humbleth himself shall 
be exalted — and to what exaltation shall arrive the 
humble soul, when, within hail of the mighty bat- 
tlements of Zion, he beholds her shining walls and 
sparkling turrets, and receives at the hand of her 

186 HTTMiLirr. 

Monarch, the snow-white robe and starrj cro^, 
and hears His yoice, saying, in tones of incom- 
parable melody, " Cotm ye Blessed of my Fa- 

Ah, Salem, Salem, Home of the Blest ! when we 
contemplate thy glories, faintly as they are pictured 
to us by the inspired Apostle, our hearts cannot re- 
press the cry, 

** Would God that we were there I" 

A. B. G. 

BDiis<nT. IST 

A werj aged tofin, In an iLlnislious^j waa aaked wb^t he wu 
doing?— He replied, '* Only Waking,** ' * 

NLT waiting till the shadows 

Are a little looger grown, 
Only waiting till the glimmer 

Of the day's last beam is flown ; 
Tin the night of earth i& faded 

From tlie heart, once full of day ; 
HU the stars of Heaven are breakingi 

Through the twilight soft and grey- 
Only waiting till the reapers 

Have the last sheaf gathered home, 
For the summer-time is faded. 

And the autumn winds have come. 
Quickly, reapers 1 gather quickly 

The last ripe hours of my heart. 
For the bloom of life is withered, 

And I haaten to depart 

188 HUMILnT. 

Only waiting till the angels 

Open wide the mystic gate, 
At whose feet I long have lingered, 

Weary, poor and desolate. 
Eyen now I hear their footsteps, 

And their voices far away ; 
If they call me, I am waiting, 

Only waiting to obey. 

Only waiting till the shadows 

Are a little longer grown. 
Only waiting till the gKnmier 

Of the day's last beam is flown. 
Then from out the gathering darkness. 

Holy, deathless stars shall rise. 
By whose light my sonl shall gladly 

Tread its pathway to the ddes. 

HUMnJTT. 139 

\K, PAYSOI^j in a letter to a young clergy- 
man, Bays: *'Some time since, I took up a 
little work purporting to be the lives of eun- 
diy characters aB related by tlieraselyes. 
Two of these characters agreed in remark- 
ing that they were never happy until they ceased 
striving to be great men. This remark struck me, 
as you know the most Bimple remarks will strike uSj 
when Heaven pleases. It occurred to me at once 
that the most of my sufferings and sorrows were 
occasioned by an nnwillingut^ss to be the nothing 
which I am, and by consequent struggles to be 
Bometliing* I saWj if 1 would but cease stnigglijigj 
and consent to be anything or nothingj just as God 
pleaseSj I might be happy. Yon will tbinb it. 
strange that I mention this as a new discovery. 
In one sense it was not new- I had known it for 
years. But 1 now saw it in a new liglit* Mj heart 
eaw it, and consentred to it; and I am eomparo- 


lively liappy. My dear brother, if you can give 
up all desire to be great, and feel heartily 
willing to be nothing, you will be happy 


HE glories of my Father's land. 

Wake many a keen desire — - 
ItB realms of etlier, broad and deep. 

Its orbs of sacred fire ; 
ItB climate ever purely bright, 

Its halk and harps of gold. 
Its people free fixjm guilt and deatli, 

Its joys which grow not old. 

Ye radiant hosts, that strictly keep 

Toiir ceaseless watch on high, 
Walking in fair and holy rankflj 

The wide and aisiire sky. 
Behold one form'd to climb and range 

Those fields of stainless blue ; 
Support one worn by sti-ife and pain, 

Far off from Heaven and yon. 

Yet know that He, who cares for aU^ 

And rules by laws divine, 
Wbo bids me toil in grief and gloom, 

While ye rejoice and shine, 


Has said that meek and steadfast faith, 

His choicest gifts insures : — 
A Christian's place and state with Him 

Shall more than equal yours. 

Be mine the green and dewy turf — 

The turf which wraps the dead, 
With trees and flowers to wave and bloom 

Above njy last low bed. 
I fain would leave this weary world : — 

Dwellers in yon starr'd dome, 
Bend earthward from your shining seats, 

And take an exile home. 

Eev. J. G. Lyons, LL.D: 

(8agg«ft«d by an Odt of CMlmir 8arl>i«wikL) 

HXJlQLirT. 143** 

fit %USSt)i fjOfm 

OME I To be at home is the wish of the 
seaman on stormy seas and lonely watch. 
Home is the wish of the soldier, and tender 
visions mingle with the troubled dreams of 
trench and tented field. Where the palm- 
tree waves its graceful plumes, and birds of jew- 
elled lustre flash and flicker among gorgeous 
flowers, the exile sits staring upon vacancy; a far- 
away home lies upon his heart ; and borne upon 
the wings of fancy, over intervening seas and lands, 
he has swept away to home, and hears the lark 
singing above his father's fields, and sees his fair- 
haired boy-brother, with light foot and childhood's 
glee, chasing the butterfly by his native stream- 
' And in his best hours, home, his own sinless home, 
a home with his Father above that starry sky, will 
be the wish of every Christian man. He looks 
around him; the world is full of suffering; he is 
distressed by its sorrows, and vexed with its sins. 
He looks within him ; he flnds much in his own 

144 HimiLirr* 

corraptionB to grieve for. In the language of a 
heart repelled, grieved, vexed, he often turns his 
eye upward, saying, "I would not live here 
always ; no, not for all the gold of the world's 
mines ; not for all the pearls of h^ sea^ not for all 
the pleasures of her flashy, frothy cup ; not for all 
the crowns of her kingdoms, would I live here 
always." like a bird about to migrate to those 
sunny lands where no winter sheds her snows, or 
strips the grove, or binds the dancing streams, he 
will often in spirit be pluming his wing for the hour 
of his flight to glory. 



ffe* f ilgrim's gmiatU is t^i Maxlk 

^VFor bere hB.y& ^e no coadnoing oitj, but we seek one to 

lAKEWELL, poor world ! I mnet he gone ; 
Thou art no ]ioiiiej no rest for me : 
ril take my Btaff and travel on. 
Till I a better world majr see. 

Why art thou loath, my heart ? Oh why 
DoBt thon recoil within my breast I 

Grieve not, but say, farewell, and fly 
Unto the ark, my dove 1 there's rest. 

1 come, my Lord, a pilgrim's pace ; 

Weary and weak, I slowly move ; 
Longing, bnt can't yet reach the place,-^ 

The gladsome place of rest above, 

I come, my Lord ; the floods here rise, 
These troubled seas foam naught but mire j 

My dove back to my bosom flies : 

Farewell, poor world 1 — ^Heaven's my desire. 

146 HUiaLITT. 

" Stay, stay," said Earth ; " Whither, fond one? 

Here's a fair world, what wouldst thou have ?" 
Fair world 1 oh no, thy beauty's gone, 

A heavenly Canaan, Lord, I crave. 

Thus th'ancient travellers — ^thus they. 
Weary of earth, sighed after Thee : 

They're gone before — ^I may not stay. 
Till I both Thee and them may see. 

Put on, my soul, put on with speed 1 
Though the way be long, the end is sweet : 

Once more, poor world, farewell indeed 1 
In leaving thee, my Lord I meet. 

pChese pious and beautiful lines are from a very 
scarce old book, " The Young Man's Calling," Lon- 
don, 1683. The excellent Bishop Ken was living 
at that time, and they are so much in his spirit, 
that it is not improbable they are by him.] 

HUMIUTT, ' 14? 

CONFESS til at increasing years luring T^ith 
them an increasing refipect for men who do 
not Bncceed in life, as tbo&e words are com- 
monljr used. Heaven m said to be a place 
for those who have not succeeded npon 
earth; and it is surely true that celestial gi'acea do 
not beet thrive and bloom in the hot blaze of 
worldly prosperity. El success sometimes arises 
from a snperabun dance of qualities in themselves 
good — from a conscience too sensitive, a taste too 
fasti diouSj a selt-forgetfnlness too romantiCj a mo- 
desty too retiring- I will not go so fai' as to say, 
with a Living poet, that " the world knows nothing 
of its greatest men^" but there are forms of great- 
ness, or at least of excellence^ which " die and make 
no eign ;" there are martyrs that miss the palm, but 
not the stake ; there are heroes without the laurel, 
and conquerors without tlie triumph. 


^itm m I ittttit si |M|f CxruUsx. 

)N the wild, still woods I love to stray, 

> When the autumn leaves are passing away — 

^ When my spirit droops in desponding mood, 

'S' And, sick of this world, would commune with 

^ its God. 

On the tall strong Oak I love to look, 

And watch its leaves as they fall in the brook; 

As shorn of their glories and doomed to decay, 

Afar on its bosom they eddy away ; 

On the crimson glow of the Maple tree. 

And the golden sheen of the Hickory ; 

On the thorny Holly's emerald hue. 

And the delicate tints of the mournful Tew. 

As I gaze on these with my artist eye, 

I would I might win the deep mystery. 

Of Nature's pallette and pencilling fair 

When she tinted each leaflet a gem thus raire. 

And I love to list the moaning breeze 

As its harmonies float through the dark Fine trees; 

Oil I it soothes my soul like the whispered song, 
Or the distant chant of a seraph throng. 
But I shuddering start at the rustling sound 
Of the Poplar leaf as it whirls to the ground ; 
For it brings to my mind the rattling breath 
That the strong man draws ere he sinks in death. 

And oft down the valley I lonely rove, 

And wander away to the Laurel grove ; 

And sit me adown by the rivulet's brim, 

While my heart echoes nature's sweet vesper hymn. 

And here, while the sere leaves around me fall, 
And night mantles o'er me her mystic pall ; 
As in silence I muse on some moss-grown stone, 
And ask my sad heart if indeed I'm alone : — 
There comes on the nightrwind a whispered reply, 
And it bids me look up to the star-gemmed sky ; 
And, adoring, I feel though no mortal is near, 
I am not alone,^ for Jehovah is here t 

J. W. B. Gaxbett. 

Oiifl|«itttd Iqr the words of an ArahiMi trsroUfc) 

150 HUldLTTT. 

)TrR late King of Sweden was greatly exer- 
cised upon the subject oi faith sometime 
previous to his death. A peasant being 
once on a particular occasion admitted to 
his presence, the king, knowing him to be a 
person of singular piety, asked him what he took to 
be the true nature of faith. The peasant entered 
deeply into the subject, and much to the king's 
comfort and satisfaction. The king, at last, on his 
death-bed, had a return of his doubts and fears as 
to the safety of his soul, and still the same ques- 
tion was perpetually in his mouth to those about 
him, " What is real faith ?" His attendants advised 
him to send for the Archbishop of Upsal, who, 
coming to his bedside, began, in a learned and 
logical manner to enter into the scholastic 
definition of faith. The prelate's disquisition 
lasted an hour. When he had done, the king 
said with much energy: "All this is inge- 
nious, but not comfortable ; it is not what I want. 
Nothing but the fwrrmr^B faith will do for me.'' 


EKE on my gaze what dazzling visions 
burst I 

A new creation rising ; past the first ; 

New heavens, and heaven-like earth ; where 
sea no more 
Severs, intrusive, shore from kindred shore 1 
And there, refulgent as a peerless bride, 
On the glad spousal morning beautified. 
For her loved lord ; from opening heaven she came, 
That holy city, New Jerusalem 1 
And hark, what voice shouts with exulting swell, — 
"God with his people, God himself will dwell; 
Will be their present God, and they his Israel I 
He wipes all tears forever from their eyes ; 
Pain is no more, and Death for ever dies.'' 

^ ^ « ^ « 

There walls of chrysolite and ruby blaze ; 
There battlements of jasper charm the gaze ; 
"While beryl, sardonyx, and topaz, blend their 
rays I 

163 HmnuFTT* 

And gates of massiye pearl, like silyer, gleam ; 
And streets of gold, like glass, transparent beam ; 
And sapphire, emerald, and amethyst unite I 
Their exquisite diversities of light I 
No temple there around, no sun above ; 
All sun, all temple there, where all is Gtod and 
Love I 

Rev. Thomas GBmnKLD. A. M. 

Mattlie^w. Tratli. 

" Follow me. And he arose and followed him." 

)HE CHRYSOLITE is the precious stone of 
the seventh fonndation of the City of Saints, 
where it bears the name of Matthew. In 
Exodne, instead of chrysolite, we find the 
word, diamond ; which variation may easily 
be accounted for by the fact that the general title 
of chrysolite was applied to any gem in which was 
prevalent a golden or yellowish hue ; and this is tlie 
case with many of the oriental diamonds. Indeed, 
some mineralogists affirm that the unmixed white 
gem was, in all probability, very rare in olden 
times. As the white were the most prized and 
costly, we must assume that nop© other would be 
selected to grace, in figure, this glorious edifice. 
The most valuable of all precious stones from its 
hardness, transparency, and dazzling brilliancy, the 
diamond, sometimes also called the adamant, seems 
to be most worthy to symbolize Truth, in its 

154 TEUTH. 

several phases of innocency, courage, fidelity, 
and integrity. As the diamond is powerful in 
reducing, polishing, and impressing other hard sub- 
stances, so is truth invincible in conquering the 
most obdurate heart ; and as it shines in quenchless 
radiance even amid the obscurity of the mine, so, 
in like manner, does illustrious truth, with its 
inspired coruscations, illuminate the darkest re- 

In imitation, unquestionably, of the Jewish High 
Priest, Diodorus Siculus relates, that the chief 
judge among the Egyptians " did carry about his 
neck an image, or zodiac of precious stones hang- 
ing on a golden chain, which was called Truth." 
And another old writer asserts that the Egyptian 
chief priest wore an image about his neck of the 
sapphire stone, which was called Truth. 

Of Saint Matthew, the man so highly honored 
in having dedicated to his name the most lustrous 
and magnificent of the stones of fire, there is no 
phrase recorded by either of the Evangelists. In 
his own gospel, the earliest written, and also the 
most minute and comprehensive of the four, he, 
with an admirable modesty, sums up his personal 
history in the brief sentence cited at the head of 
this chapter, X^uke makes of him the additional 

TEUTH. 155 

record, that, at the gracious invitation of the 
Eedeemer, ^^Me left allj rose up, and followed 
Him." An honorable testimony I He manifested 
his love of truth in renouncing all for His sake, 
who was of truth the embodiment. Without lin- 
gering to confer with flesh and blood, without con- 
sulting worldly issues, without seeking counsel of 
friends and kindred — no sooner did the future 
apostle, evangelist, and martyr, recognize in the 
august lineaments before him, the Shiloh, the King 
of Glory, than, filled with holy faith, he hastened 
to obey the Divine call. From that auspicious 
moment, the soul of Levi clave imto his master 
with a deathless devotion. If we view the founda- 
tions of the city as rising one above another, the 
cornelian and diamond, red and white, are the cen- 
tral stones. May not this circumstance denote that 
the salvation of Christ, and the purity and inde- 
structibility of His Kingdom, should be the great 
central objects of all our thoughts and aspirations — 
the blent focus that should attract and rivet our 
imdeviating gaze ? White is the established emblem 
of innocence, and the redeemed are represented as 
being clad in white vestures. Unto him that over- 
cometh, Christ promises to give "a white stone, 
and in the stone a new name written," Happy, 

156 TBOIB. 

happ J the J, who have abroad j arrived in the bliss- 
ful haven, and now behold the King in His beantj! 
who have already awakened in His likeness, and 
are satisfied 1 Sweet home, we languish for thee, 
and to receive of thy robes of nnsullied whiteness, 
free from any vestige of sin. Shall we, aweary and 
sorrow-stained, ever pass through those pearly 
doors and courts of peerless splendor, and sit down, 
clad in the Wedding-garment of Sighteousness, to 
the marriage-supper of the Lamb aud His Be- 

▲• B. G. 

ixuiiL 167 

DAILY wrestled with my foe, 
But wrestliiig stOl increased my woe ; 
I rarely could get ground, 
Or 'scape without a wound : 
Hell and the flattering world combined 
With the propensions of my carnal mind. 

To God I daily sent my cries, 

Of heavenly aid to gain supplies ; 
My prayer, my sigh, my groan. 
Ne'er reached, I fear, the throne ; 

Tet God's veracity relieved 

My troubled spirit when I most was grieved. 

My God, my God, with tears J spake, 
Ah, will Thy pity me forsake 1 

I oft Thy promise plead 

To help in time of need ; 
Li time of need I long have prayed : 
Ah, Lord ! why is Thy promise long dday'd? 

158 TBUTH. 

My spirit here my sorrow checked, 
Bade me Thy own good time expect; 

Thou best, my God, dost know 

Thy gifts when to bestow ; 
like Simon, then, I acquiesced. 
Yet Kved in patient languor to be blest 

Dear Lord, I, on a sudden, felt 
My spirit into sweetness melt ; 

What joys were in my breast 

Can never be express'd ; 
Thou, Lord, art true, most true, I find, 
And Thou, in gracious rays, hast on me shin'd. 

Thy promises of hearing prayer, 
Of pardon, and paternal care, 

Of eflicacious aids 

When hell our soul invades, 
Of bliss ecstatic, unconfin'd 
Of Thy good Spirit dwelling in our mind, — 

They all infallibly are true ; 

All are perform'd in seasons due : 

My God, much sooner I 

My thinking would deny. 
Than of Thy gracious promise doubt — 
The steady anchor of a soul devout. 

TBUTH. 159 

Thy promise, Lord, the more to bind, 
Thou hast Thy oath eternal join'd ; 

From both to saints below 

Strong consolations flow : 
On both their humble hope they found, 
In bliss supernal to be thron'd and crown'd. 

Whene'er to God I have recourse. 
And of a promise feel the force, 

Faith, which experience rears. 

So fixes, so endears. 
That martyrs their high courage build 
On certain sense of promises fulfilled. 

Thy Truth, my God, Thy saints revere, 
And learn of Thee to be sincere ; 

They with a heart entire, 

To love Divine aspire ; 
And for probation of their zeal 
To Thy Omniscience humbly make appeal 

In things below man seeks repose. 
Whose sweetest joys are bitter'st woes; 

Experiments he tries. 

Finds all to be but lies ; 
His expectations they defeat ; 
The world appears a universal cheat. 


Souls wbo in Gh>d alone confide 
Have trvL^ essential for their guide; 

niuminations clear 

To heaven their spirits steer ; 
The Godhead, fall of truth and grace, 
Deigns in our flesh to guide all human race. 

Oh, may I study Jesus' law, 

From fontal truth my knowledge draw 1 
The Gospel, when I stray, 
Shews me the heavenward way : 

The star had a less radiant light 

Which led the Sages to their Saviour's sight. 

Of all the truths which from Thee shine, 
Lord, Thy philanthropy divine 

Next to my heart still lies ; 

And turns my ghostly eyes 
From all ill-natured schemes, designed 
To bound what thou hast to no bounds confin'd. 

Praise to the God of Truth ! may I 
His word read, ponder, and apply I 

I may myself delude ; 

Satan may lies intrude ; 
Thee only. Lord, I can believe, 
Who nor canst be deceived, nor me deceive. 

Bishop Ken. 


)HE very moment of your final ferewell, if 
you are not previously cut short by death, 
which is a very possible thing, that mo- 
ment will come, and old age will come, 
and the last sickness wiU come, and the 
dying-bed will come, and the last look you shall 
ever cast upon your relations will come, and the 
agony of the parting breath will come, and the time 
when you will be stretched a lifeless corpse before 
the eyes of your weeping relations will come, and 
the coffin that is to inclose you will come, and that 
hour when the company assemble to carry you to the 
churchyard will com6, and that moment when you 
are put into the grave will come, and the throwing 
of the earth upon it — ^all, all, will come on every 
living creature, who now hears me. And in a few 
little years, the minister who now addresses you, 
and each one who now listens, wiU be carried ta 
their long home ; now, all this will come ; you may 
have been careless or heedless about th^e things 

162 TSUTH. 

formerly ; but, I call upon you now, to lay them 
seriously to heart, and no longer trifle, or to parley, 
when the scenes of life are thus set so evidently 
before you. What more shall I say ? — shall I carry 
you beyond the region of sense to the region of 
faith, and assure you, in the name of Him who can- 
not lie, that when the hour of laying the body in 
the grave comes, the hour of the spirit's returning 
to God comes too ? Yes, and the day of reckoning 
will come ; and the appearance of the Son of God 
in heaven, and His holy angels around him will 
come ; and the opening of the Books will come ; and 
the appearance of every one of you before the judg- 
ment-seat will come : and the solemn passing of the 
sentence which is to fix for Eternity, will come ; and 
if you refuse to be reconciled to God in the name 
of Christ, now that He is beseeching you to repent ; 
and, if you refuse to turn from the evil of your 
ways, and to be and to do, what your Saviour 
requires you to be and to do, I must tell you what 
the sentence is, " Depart from me, ye cursed, into 
everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his 
angels !" To-day, then, while it is called to-day, 
harden not your hearts, seeing that now is the only 
accepted time, that you can coimt upon, and that 
now is the day of salvation. 

Dr. Chalmers. 

TJSUTA. 168 


** We all do fade as a lea^" 

^ADING, fading, all are fading — 
Ko substantial thing is here : 
Loved ones leave us — we are passing, 
Passing to another sphere. 

Beauty, with her customed smiling, 
And her love-inspiring eye, 

Fadeth, like the Day-god dying. 
In the twilight summer sky. 

Like to pilgrims, worn and weary, 

Toil we on our weary way, 
Through this night of life, while gazing 

For the dawning of the day. 

Like a stately pageant moving 
Slowly o'er the trembling earth 

Pass the ages, dim and hoary, 
Bending all to sceptered Death. 


And the tread of yaliant nationB, 
Thundering on in march sublimei 

Leayes a faint, and fainter echo 
In the crumbling halls of lime. 

Yes, these bright majestic heavens, 
In their nightly march proclaim, 

We are passing, we are passing, 
IJnto nothing, whence we cama 

But when, like a baseless vision. 

All have faded thus away. 
There is built a home eternal 

For the weary pilgrim's stay. 

On the Hill of God it standeA t 
Bearing high its golden dome. 

And the song comes swelling from it, 
" Welcome pilgrim, welcome home 1" 


f |t Wlx& to f taltn. 

)0 candid, reasonable men, I am not afraid 
to lay open what have been the inmost 
thoughts of my heart. I have thought, 
I am a creature of a day, passing through 
life as an arrow, through the air. I am 
a spirit, come from God, and returning to God; 
just hovering over the great gulf, till, a few 
moments hence, I am no more seen. I drop into 
an unchangeable eternity ! I want to know one 
thing — the way to heaven ; how to land safe on 
that happy shore. God himself has condescended 
to teach the way; for this very end He came 
from heaven. He hath written it down in a 
book. Oh, give me that bookl At any price, 
give me the book of God I I have it. Here is 
knowledge enough for me. Let me bo homo 
wmiB Ufyri. Here, then, I am, far from the busy 
ways of men. I sit down alone ; only God is here. 
In His presence I open, I read this book, for this 
end — ^to find the way to heaven. Is there a 

166 TRUTH. 

doubt concerning the meaning of what I read! 
Does anything appear dark or intricate ? I lift np 
my heart to the Father of Lights : Lord, is it not 
thy word, " If any man lack wisdom, let him ask 
of God?" Thou "givest liberally, and upbraidest 
not." Thou hast said "If any be willing to do 
Thy will, he shall know." I am willing to do ; 
let me know thy will. I then search after and 
consider parallel passages of the Scriptures, " com- 
paring spiritual things with spiritual." I medi- 
tate thereon, with all the attention and earnest- 
ness of which my mind is capable. K any doubt 
stiQ remains, I consult those who are experienced 
in the things of Gkwi; and then, the writings 
whereby, being dead, they yet speak. 


TRUTH. 167 

Rer. Samuel Butherford, Professor of Divinity in the Univeraitj 
of St Andrews, was one of the brightest ornaments of the Pres- 
byterian cause in the seventeenth century. The Parliament of 
Scotland was about to proceed against him in 1661, when the per- 
secutions of Charles the Second were just commencing ; but Mr. 
Rutherford^s death removed him from their jurisdiction. This 
worthy man died the very day before the Parliament passed the 
famous Recessory Act. 

)READ lightly through the darkened room, 
for a sick man lieth there, 
And 'mid the dimness only stirs the whis- 
pered breath of prayer, 
As anxions hearts take watch by turns be- 
side the lowly bed. 
Where sleep the awful stillness wears, that soon 
must wrap the dead. 

Hours had he known of fevered pain ; but now hia 

rest is calm, 
As though upon the spirit worn, distilled some 

healing balm; 

168 TBDTH. 

It may be that his dreaming ear wakes old accus- 
tomed words, 

Or drinks once more the matin-songs of Anwoth's 
" blessed birds." 

Ohl green tmd fi^sh upon his soul those early- 
haunts arise ; 

His kirk I his home I his wildrwood walk I with all 
their memories — 

The very rushing of the bum, by which so oft he 

The while on eagle wings of faith his spirit met its , 

A smile hath brightened on his lip-— a light around 

his brow ; 
Ohl surely, "words unspeakable," that dreamer 

listeth now ; 
And glories of the upper akj his raptured senses 

Blent with the whispers of His love, who gives 

His loved ones sleep I 

But harkl a sound 1 a tramp of horse! a loud, 

harsh, wrangling din 1 
Oh t rudely on that dream of heaven this world 

hath broken in ; 

TRUTH. 169 

Li vain affection's earnest plea — ^the intruders 

forward press, 
And with a struggling spasm of pain, he wakes 

to consciousness I 

Strange lights are streaming through the room 

— strange forms are round his bed, 
Slowly his dazzled sense takes in each shape and 

sound of dread — 
" False to thy country's honored laws, and to thy 

sovereign lord, 
I summon thee to meet thy doom, thou traitor, 


Feebly the sick man raised his hand — ^his hand 

so thin and pale. 
And something in the hollow eye made that rude 

speaker quail : 
" Man I thou hast sped thine errand well ! — ^yot it 

is wasted breath. 
Except the great ones of the earth can break my 

tryst with death I" 

" A few brief days, or briefer hours, and I am go- 
ing home, 
Unto mine own prepared place, where but few 
great ones come I 

170 TEIJTH. 

And to the Judgment-seat of Him who sealed 

me with His seal ; 
'Gainst evil tongues and evil men I make my 

last appeal I 

"A traitor was His name on earth I a felon's 

doom His fate I 
Thrice welcome were my Master's cup, but it 

hath come too late I 
The summons of that Mightiest King, to whom 

all kings must bow. 
Is on me for an earlier day — ^is on me even now I 

"I hear! I hear I the chariot wheels that bring 
my Saviour nigh : 
For me He bears a golden crown-r-a harp of 

melody ; 
For me He opens wide His arms — ^He shows His 

wounded side, 
Lordl 'tis my passport into life! — ^I live for 
Thou hast died 1" 

Tbey give his writings to the flames ; they brand 
his grave with shame, 

A hifilBing in the mouth of fools, became his hon- 
ored name — 

TETJTH. 171 

And darkness wraps awhile the land for which 

he prayed and strove ; 
But blessed in the Lord his death — ^and blessed 

his rest above I 

Tlioxnas* Kno-wledse* 

«* My Lord and my God.'' 

)HE BERYL is the precious stone of the 
eighth foundation of the Glorified Home, 
where it is the ensign of Thomas. This 
admired gem is, in color, a delicate sea- 
green, tinctured slightly with blue, and is 
of an exquisite vivid transparency. Sometimes it 
is interspersed with golden streaks, when it receives 
the prefix of chryso-beryl. Isadore of Seville, a 
savant of repute, has thought the term beryl to be 
but a modification of pearl ; but, as the beryl is a 
well-authenticated gem, distinct, entirely, from the 
opaque, soft pearl, there is no reason whatever to 
dissent from the generally received idea. Kelly 
says that the word beryl is, in the original tongue, 
Tarshish, a term which in Scripture is frequently 
put figuratively for the sea ; and, that thus consider- 
ing its color and name in relation to the sea, it may 
appositely refer to Zebulon, of whom his father 



Jacob said in blessing him, ^^ Zebnlon shall dwell at 
the haven of the sea ; and he shall be an haven of 
ships." This reference to the sea may be the cause 
of the misconception. Here, anew, onr admiration 
is awakened by the position of this stone — ^the 
attention to elegance of effect which fixed its 
station between the white crystal and the rich 
golden topaz, should elicit emotions of gratitude to 
Himward, the Architect Supreme ! the Author of 
every glorious object, who deigns still to minister 
to the passion for beauty, which, in their state of 
pristine innocence, He implanted in the bosoms of 
our first parents ! "With reference to the significa- 
tion of this precious stone, after much debating 
what meaning it were better to attach to it, I 
finally incline to Knowledge, chiefly because that, 
in the Book of Judges it is stated that " Out of 
Zebulon (came) they that handle the pen of the 
writer." The experience of Thomas, too, will ren- 
der the interpretation more suitable. 

"My Lord and my Godl" exclaimed Saint 
Thomas, in an ecstasy of adoration, when Jesus 
revealfed Himself, and invited him to dispel his dis- 
honoring doubts by making a manual examination 
of Hip sacred person. The benediction pronounced 
on that memorable occasion, by Christ Jesus, has 


descended, and shall contmne to descend on e^erj 
believing soul, from His Ascension, thlenceforward, 
until the mighty angel shall proclaim Time to be no 
longer. Of Thomas, there is but little recorded in 
sacred history, but that little shows him to have been 
a person of somewhat singular temperament — ^at once 
incredulous and impulsive. Tradition declares that, 
during his sojourn in Persia, he met the very same 
Magi, who, at the Advent of our Saviour, had made 
the long journey to worship at His shrine ; and that 
having baptized them, they accompanied him as 
fellow-laborers in his consecrated mission of spread- 
ing the Gospel. 

Of Divine Knowledge, Job says : " It cannot be 
valued with the gold of Ophir, with the precious 
onyx, or the sapphire. The gold and the crystal 
cannot equal it ; and the exchange of it shall not 
be for jewels of fine goM. Ko mention shall be 
made of coral or of pearls : for the price of wisdom 
is above rubies. The topaz of Ethiopia shall not 
equal it, neither shall it be valued with pure gold." 
Vain Earthly wisdom, the mere knowledge of things 
that perish in the using, is but the counterfeit gem, 
whose transient and fitful gleam can never suflSce 
to lighten the pilgrim of life one step through the 
dark valley ; whereas, the knowledge which is from 


above shall blaze with imdimmed oriency when the 
luminaries of the firmament are extinguished in. 
eternal night. To know Christ, and the power of 
His resurrection, is the sole wisdom that will pass 
the review of that Great Day of Keckoning, when 
" Many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth 
shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to 
shame and everlasting contempt." 

A. B. a. 


176 KNOwuax^B. 

f lie lagan ^stiviting ^tvi\, 

"The outward darkness and the inward light" 

MIST of night and blindness 1 that must hang 

Before the life to come 1 
O Tomb ! that closes once with iron clang, 

And is forever dumb I 

Ships, which go forth upon the boundless main, 

And perish far at sea. 
Are tossed in fragments to the land again — 

But naught returns from thee. 

No whisper comes from all the generations, 

Through thy dark portals thrust ; 
No breath of life among the buried nations, 

One moment stirs their dust ! 

No souls beneath, e'er struggling into sight, 

Heave up the silent ground ; 
Though the green sod above them is so light — 

So frail the crumbling mound. 


I liBten by the sea to catch some tone 

From spirits that are fled ; 
There is no voice in its eternal moan, 

No voice of all its dead. 

The stars look coldly down when man is dying, 

The moon still holds its way ; 
Flowers breathe their perfume ronnd us; winds 
keep sighing ; 

Naught seems to pause or stay. 

Tes ! blindly on— o'er all that thinks and feels, 

The universe must roll ; 
Though at each turn its adamantine wheels 

Crush out a human soul I 

Toward yon bright vault of heaven I dare not 

The cry of my despair. 
Lest I should hear tlie echo which betrays 

That all is empty there. 

Tet has my soul within the gift of seeing 

Beyond this earth and sky ; 
I FEEL the immortal instinct of my being— 

I EETOw it cannot die ! 



» EAVENS 1 what a moment must that be 
when the last flutter expires on our lips I 
What a change I Tell me, ye who are 
deepest read in nature and in Gk)d, to what 
new worlds are we bom? Whither has 
that spark — ^that unseen, incomprehensible intelli- 
gence, fled ? Look upon that cold, livid, ghastly 
corpse that lies before you ! That was a shell, a 
gross, earthly covering, which held the immortal 
essence which has now left ; left to range, perhaps, 
through illimitable space; to receive new capa- 
cities to delight, new powers of conception, new 
glories of beatitude ! Ten thousand fancies rush 
upon the mind as it contemplates the awful mo- 
ment between life and death ! It is a moment big 
with imagination, hopes and fears ; it is the con- 
sunmiation that clears up all mystery — solves all 
doubts — which removes all contradictions, and 
destroys errors. Great Godl what a flood of 
rapture may at once burst upon the departed soul. 


The unclouded brightness of the celestial region — 
the solemn secrets of nature may be divulged ; the 
immediate unity of the past, forms of imperishable 
beauty may then suddenly disclose themselves, 
bursting upon the delighted senses, and bathing 
them in immeasurable bliss. 

iaf0n, % Stttlgt0r. 

) 'HE inscription on the tomb of Bacon, the 
sculptor, penned by himself :—" What I 
was as an artist seemed to me of some 
importance while I lived ; but what I 
really was as a believer in Jesus Christ, 
is the only thing of importance to me now 1" 


''€\tu s|aU ht no p# tjjm/' 

) night of sorrow — sorrow that doth lie 

Like a dark fringe round every bloom- 

cW^ Happy if with the fleeting bliss to fly, 

Nor lingering as each trace it would 
Of what hath been — deepening into a paU, 
To throw its cold, dark shadow over aU, 
And wrap around warm life a chill and gloom, 
More fearful than the shadow of the tomb. 

No night of darkness, sorrow's sister sad, 

Upon whose melancholy, quiet breast. 
Leaving the day unto the gay and glad, 

The o'erwearied heart doth weep itself to rest. 
Light for the happy 1 Joy and light must blend 

To bless existence, but the noise and glare 
Mocks the pain'd, shrinking spirit; doth but send 

Through its lone depths the anguish of despair. 


No night of sin — there shall no sorrowing heart 
Its own unholiness and weakness mourn, 

No sins of others anguish shall impart, 

None grieve for wanderers who will not return ; 

No hard unkindness shall be dealt from those 
We fain would love and honor of your kind — 

The false and heartle^ss make life's bitterest woes, 
Unto the Bensitive and lofty mind. 

No night of death— beside the couch of pain. 

Ne'er shall the watcher wasting vigil keep, 
O'er the loved dying one^ and strive in vain 

To woo for the worn stiff 'rer balmy sleep, 
HnsMng with strong resolve the torn heart's strife, 

Wilder than that of life's last agony- 
Death, thou art terrible I — marefearfid life^ 

To see the loving and beloved die ! 

** There shall be uo night there 1" — calm bappineas, 

Seeming a part of the soft lambent light 
On which no &hade shall ever lie, shall bless 

And penetrate the soul with pure delight ; 
For ^' God shall dwell with them "--God and the 

Lead them where living streams well out always, 
While holy love each spirit shall inflame, 

And tune to songs of everlasting praise I 


Then cheer thee, heart 1 my fainting sonl, be 
strong ! 
O'er life's cold pathway Btreams the heavenly 
Enough to make the gladden'd spirit long 

For a full plenitude of life like this. 
Be it thy only work — ^the Crucified 

To bind unto thy heart — know more of God, 
Until with Jesus thou art glorified, 
And Heaven becomes thine endless, blessed 
abode ! 

H.E. Sbabs. 


Wisim at <&Uxm% 

jUffE 18 short, and eternity is long ; yet, in 
this short time 1 must prepare for a long 
eternity. Ohy what a dnratioti is before 
me 1 but what an infatuation is within me, 
that I should mind the trifling things of 
time, and forget the interests of eternity ! Truly, 
when I compare eternity and time, I am astonislied 
that eternity does not swallow up time in my con- 
cerns and meditations- With what night visions, 
deceptive fantasia, and dcUisive dreams, are we 
entertained liere, in comparison with that divine 
undemtanding, intnitive Imowledge, noonday die- 
coveries, vigor and activity of soul, W6 shall he 
possessed of, when we awake to immortahty, from 
all the slumbers of a transitory life I But let me 
rise in my contemplation, and see the goodly hosts 
of the ransomed nations, dwelling in the noonday 
displays of His glory, possessed of pleasures free as 
the fountain whence they flow, and full as their 
unlindted desire. Their souls are replenished with 


the most refined satisfaction, sacred delist, and 
substantial joj. What an august assembly are the 
inhabitants of the better country 1 wearing crowns, 
holding sceptres, reigning on thrones, walking in 
white, exalted in their natures, their conceptions 
bright, their visions cloudless, their thoughts ele- 
vated, their songs transporting, their happiness con- 
firmed, their love burning, and all their powers 
entranced forever ! 


ftitlnm tt ®trra* 

NE year in heaven I since, from its prisoning 

Thy soul exultant winged its upward way.; 
Sprang to embrace the waiting seraph 

And entered heaven's high courts with a triumphal 

One year on earth 1 since we, the funeral knell * 
Tolling sad welcome, laid thy form to dwell 
Mid summer's wreathing-blossoms, dust to dust, 
To slumber tiU the resurrection of the just. 

One year in heaven ! Oh, spirit, early crowned 
With bays immortal 1 thou thy rest hast found, 
Where flowers perennial bloom, and waters flow. 
Whoso that quaflfeth of them, thirst no more shall 

*The funeral bells at the entrance of Greenwood Cemetery. 

186 s3rowLSDa& 

One year on earth t in loneliness and tears 
With us the days have crept, blent with dark fears, 
And doubts, and brooding gloom, lest the pure bliss 
Supernal, thou dost bask in, haply we should miss. 

One year in heaven ! the conqueror's waving plume 
Is in thine hand, and youth's rich purpling bloom 
Tints thy fair cheek, while o'er each vernal height, 
And perfumed vale thou rov'st, in uniform of light 

One year on earth 1 Oh spirit, best beloved ! 

Our home's dear star, though far from us removed, 

Dost thou yet think on us ? or in that clime 

Of happiness supreme, keep they no note of time ? 

One year in heaven 1 what priceless gems of thought 
And mystic lore, thy eager soul hath sought. 
And seeking, found — ^and finding, decked the crown, 
Adoring cast in blaze refulgent at EGs Throne. 

One year on earth 1 thy presence is allwhere : 
Thy pictures, books, each object once thy care, 
We dream-like view, till, with a shuddering start, 
Thy dying words and smile come rushing o'er the 

One year in heaven 1 we wrong thee by our grief, 
More meet were praise ; thy mortal toil was brief. 

KHowLEDaa. 1ST 

Thy warfare light, the victory bestowed, 
"Was through thy Sovereign's loving grace, thy 

One year on earth 1 why should we envy thee, 
O blessed youth ! thy early rest, when we 
Nurse the fond hope, that, time's wild struggle o'er, 
"We shall with rapture greet thee on the Sabbath 

One year in heaven ! thine artist's soul is now 
FiUed with deep beauty vainly sought below ; 
And many a gorgeous dream, a vision grand, 
Glows into semblance bright, by ambient zephyrs 

One year on earth 1 Oh, early loved and lost I 

Still pity us, on life's fierce ocean tossed : 

Be thou the sweet-souled guardian angel given 

To guide us to the skies, when earth's last link is 

riven 1 

Augusta Browne Garrett. 

(From ** Hamilton, fhe Toanf Artitt,**) 


nHE true object of this present life is a pre- 
paration for a higher sphere — ^it is a period 
of probation. We are now acquiring our 
education for eternity — ^that mighty goal 
whither we are all alike hastening, irresis- 
tibly impelled by ever-rushing time. This convic- 
tion makes the tenancy of life, precarious tenure 
though it be, one of priceless value. Therefore, if 
the lessons enforced be sometimes bitter ones — ^as, 
alas, they are — ^is it not consoling to reflect that 
every chastening we feel, every woe, every pang in 
the experience of the spirit, is intended for the ulti- 
mate purpose — salvation 1 

" A happy immortality," says Plato, " is a great 
prize set before us, and a great object of hope, 
which should engage us to labor all the time of our 
life to acquire wisdom and virtue." 

Truly, had we no permanent hopes fixed, no 
treasures laid up beyond this perishing world, mis- 
erable would be our lot, far inferior to that of the 

EK0WLED6K 189 

meanest animal. How affecting was the dying 
remark of a distinguished heathen philosopher, 
who had no light save that of nature : " I have 
lived in anxiety, and I depart in perturbation 1" 

Than this I can imagine nothing more mournful, 
and gladly turn from him to hear the testimony of 
another philosopher, the light over whose grave- 
ward path shone from a noble source— -the Star in 
the East : " For I am now ready to be offered, and 
the time of my departure is at hand, I have fought 
a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept 
the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a 
crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the 
righteous Judge shall give me at that day." 

The course of life is an enigma ; not that it is 
checkered with seemingly aimless trials and vicissi- 
tudes, but because persons endowed with intellect, 
learning, and opportunity to discern truth from 
error, light from darkness, should suffer themselves 
to be entangled in the perplexing mazes of falla- 
cious reasonings and groundless doubts, when the 
great Chart of Revelation, the only solver of the 
grand problem, lies open unexplored. The sages of 
ancient Greece and Home, derived whatever glim- 
merings of truth they possessed, from stray passages 
of the ancient Scriptures. 

Firml V must every thoughtful soul believe in the 


perpetual action, and changing phases of the spirit 
as it passes onwards through the ever-widening 
and brightening cycles of eternity. To an intellec- 
tual being— one who feels the futility and utter 
poverty of all earthly joys — ^it is a belief fraught 
with intense pleasure. Could we keep such 
thoughts constantly before our minds, the naeteors 
of bliss and black clouds of trouble, would both be 
more beneficially tempered in their effects. And 
whether we be toilfully climbing the steep acclivity 
of the Hill of Science — ^whether we be struggling 
through the crowded thoroughfare of life — ^whether 
we be wrestling with the most gigantic difficulties 
—or whether we lie crushed and wounded beneath 
an avalanche of misfortunes; still, still shall our 
hearts kindle with fresh ardor, while we feel that 
every trial is but another step gained toward the 
Temple of the New Jerusalem. 

The exquisite figure of the transfiguration of the 
unsightly grub into a soaring, gorgeous butterfly, is 
a foreshadowing and type of our exalted destiny, 
yet only a contracted and partial one. The insect 
springs to its highest excellence at once — we hope 
to press on from glory to glory forevermore. It 
drops its shell never more to resume it ; awr bodies, 
awakened by the peal of the final trump from the 
dumber of ages, shall be re-united each to its ior- 


mer inhabitant. Oh 1 in that mysterious moment, 
when the immortal Psyche, shaking off the cumbrous 
load of mortality, shall don her celestial vestures, and, 
poising on her newly-fledged pinions, cast one parting 
glance of her lustrous eyes on her loved companion, 
whom she is leaving for awhile, ere she plume her ex- 
ultant flight for the Paradise of God, how insignificant 
— how inconceivably insignificant — vill appear the 
honors and tinselled gauds of this poor existence ; how 
insipid its fairest allurements — ^how insane its most 
earnest pursuits — ^how trivial its most important con- 
cerns — how petty its proudest triumphs — ^what dross 
its richest treasures ! How blessed will she esteem 
every instrument, however painful and humiliating, 
that has been the medium of accelerating or fur- 
thering her progress to the Life to Come. How 
often, in the heavenly home, may the remembrances 
of each bitter experience below, call forth peans of 
rapturous gratitude, and enhance the joy of ever- 
lasting security and exemption from future ill 1 

" Why shrinks the soul 
Back on itself, and startles at destruction? 
. . 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; 

*TiB heaven itself that points out a hereafter, 
And intimates eternity to man.'' 

Augusta Beownb Gabbett. 

James th.e Xiess. Clexnenoy. 

'* For the Lord is rerj i^tifbl, and of tender mercy.'' 

)HE TOPAZ is the precious stone of the 
ninth foundation of the Realms of Light, 
where it is the ensign of James the Less. 
The topaz is a favorite gem of a bright 
yellow color tinged with green, and dia- 
phanous; it was, in olden times, believed to 
possess the medical properties of curing lunacy 
and frenzy. For these imputed virtues, as well 
as for its beautiful hue and brilliancy, this stone 
was much prized by the ancient Arabians. Eze- 
kiel also mentions it, as forming a part of the 
gorgeous adorning of the proud monarch of Tyre. 
A fanciful derivation of the name is given by one 
Juba, who writes of an enchanting island in the 
Red Sea, which, being very difficult to find by 
mariners by reason of the thick fogs and mists 
that surrounded it, was called by them Topazion, 



which signifies, in the language of the wild Arabs, 
to seek and search out, and hence, he adds, the 
name of this gem which is exceedingly sought after 
for its rare beauty and worth. It is said to be the 
emblem of Clemency, or Mercy, and those desirous 
to establish an analogy thereto will do well to 
consult the history of Simeon, whose name it 
memorialized on the Breast-Plate, in order to ascer- 
tain whether the exploits of his tribe corresponded 
with this beautiful attribute. We know that 
Simeon himself was woefully deficient in this vir- 
tue, and it is difficult to conjecture why the gem 
was given to him, except, perhaps, to serve as a 
perpetual reminder of his sin, and as a warning to 
his descendants. Such beacon-lights are often mer- 
cifully given us by our Heavenly Father. Mercy, 
in the sight of us, sinners, is the most precious and 
inestimable jewel in the Breast-Plate of our great 
High Priest. But for it we had been doomed to 
regions of endless despair; but for it no ray of 
hope had ever visited us, to enlighten our gloom, 
or gladden our drooping spirits with the prospect of 
future blessedness 1 

Of Saint James the Less, we gather little more 
information through the Evangelists than that he 
and Jude were brethren of our Lord, but the 

194 OLEMElfOT. 

records of the early Fathers extol him as an inde- 
fatigable apostle until his martyrdom, which took 
place by stoning. The text from the Epistle 
General of James is selected as in appropriate 
keeping with the lovely emblem attached to the 
stone inscribed with his name. " For the Lord is 
very pitiful, and of tender mercy." There is a 
pathos and sweetness about this passage which can- 
not fail to touch a reflecting mind. It falls on the 
perturbed soul like a melodious song in the night — 
like a beam of warm sunshine through the cap- 
tive's noisome dungeon — ^like healing balm into an 
aching wound. " Very pitiful !" Is not there an 
inexpressible plaintiveness in these two words! 
He compassionates our griefs, our errors, our 
temptations, while wandering through this Vale of 
Shadows ; and remembering that we are but dust, 
ever lets His Mercy triumph over His Judgment. 
As the topaz bathes all around it in its own sump- 
tuous rays, so the All-glorious Sun of Eighteous- 
ness irradiates with His Light, the whole earth. 
Said He, whose mercy brought Him from His 
Throne to lay down His life for His enemies, " Be 
ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merci- 
If we obeyed this mandate, how different ofttimeB 


■would be our conrse through life ; how lenienily 
•would we preside in judgment over the actions of 
our neighbors 1 

O Thou Exemplar of Mercy 1 be ever ours the 
prayer of Blind Bartimeus, and open Thou our 
eyes, that we may see in their true hght^ our sins, 
our blemishes, and our short-comings. O Thou 
Most Pitiful 1 " suffer us not at our last hour, for 
any pains of death, to fall from Thee." " O holy 
and most mercifal^Saviour, deliver us not into the 
bitter pains of eternal death I" Ever, evermore — 

" WhUe I draw this fleeting breath, 
When my eyelids close in death, 
When I rise to worlds unknown. 
And behold Thee on Thy Throne.**— 

ever, intermingling with the lays of angels and 
archangels — ever emulating the cry of Cherubim and 
Seraphim— ever throughout the unbroken cycle of 
eternity — ^let my song be of Thy incomprehensible 
mercy ! That Anthem of Mercy ! for thousands of 
ages hath it rolled its thrilling numbers over the 
xmdulating plains and eminences of the Cloudless 
City, and still it is ever fresh and ever delightful. 
And, blending in the unrivalled harmony, methinks 
I can distinguish the silvery voices of the endeared 


of jore, whose last faltering cadences, as they 
neared the celestial confines and beheld the waiting 
convoy, were but gentle modulations into the im- 
mortal key-notey Jesus. Thrice blessed friends 1 
oft do I, in imagination, discern ye in your snowy 
vestments, as, harps in hand, ye roam the flowery 
banks of the lUver of life. 

A. B. Q. 


^m m\ m, 

** Abide with us : for it ia toward erening, and the day is far 

BIDE with me ! fast falls the eventide ; 

^j^. The darkness thickens; Lord, with me 

'^rp abide, * 

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me I 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; 
Earth's joys grow dim ; its glories pass away I 
Change and decay in all around I see ; 
O Thou, who changest not, abide with me I 

Not a brief glance I beg — ^a passing word, 
But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord ; 
Familiar, condescendent, patient, free, 
Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me. 

Come not in terrors, as the King of kings. 
But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings ; 
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea. 
Come, Friend of Sinners, thus abide with met 

198 GLEHEafOT. 

ThoQ on mj head in early youth didst smile, 
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile, 
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee ; 
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me I 

I need Thy presence, every passing hour ; 
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power f 
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? 
Through cloud and sunshine, oh, abide with me! 

I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless ; 
Bis have no weight, and tears no bitterness. 
Where is Death's sting? where. Grave, thy victory, 
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me ! 

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes ; 
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies ; 
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows 

flee; — 
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me I 

Bev. H. F. Lttb. 


HE was a poor old sick slave in one of the 
West Indian islands ; her owner had given 
her a poor hovel to live in, and there she 
lay on her mean bed unable to help herself, 
subsisting on what her neighbor brought 
her, and dependent on her for attendance. Poor 
Maimie I One would have thought she was a piti- 
able object ; but not so thought Maimie. She was 
so happy, that her Christian sisters said it was a 
treat to visit her. She loved Jesus — she had obeyed 
him in health, she now trusted and praised him in 
sickness ; and " His Father loved her, and they 
came and made Their abode with her." Yes, that 
poor hVit was a Temple of the King of kings. One 
Sabbath evening, many had gone in to see her as they 
passed from the chapel, to tell her something good, 
and Maimie was more joyful than. usual. She 
spoke of the love of Jesus to a poor " nigger." 
She said " Maimie soon see Him — ^soon be wid Him 
for eber and eberl Oh, joy I joy! no more pain 


dar — ^no more long, long night — ^no more hunger. 
Ohj what me do for praise Him ? Glory, glory I" 
Early the next morning she was seen outside her 
door. With a desperate effort she had crawled out, 
and raising herself by the door-post, she waved her 
withered hand over her head, and shouted : 

" Pse boun' for de kingdom^ 
Will ye go to glory wid me ?" 

Before any one could get to her, she was dead. 
She had praised her Maker while she had breath, 
and, no doubt, ere her poor old clay had been again 
laid upon her comfortless bed, her spirit had resumed 
the blissful employment, and stood before the 
throne a trophy of the Saviour's triumph over ig- 
norance, degradation, and sin. 


%\t l^anplr nl Calm itli#. 

HEEE is a land of calm delight, 
To sorrowing mortals given ; 
There rapturous scenes enchant the sight, 
And all to soothe their souls unite ; 
Sweet is their rest in — ^Heaven. 

There glory beams on aU the plains, 

And joy for hope is given ; 
There music swells in sweetest strams, 
And spotless beauty ever reigns. 

And all is love in — ^Heaven. 

13iere cloudless skies are ever bright ; 

Thence gloomy scenes are driven ; 
There suns dispense xmsuUied light, 
And planets beaming on the sight. 

Illume the fields of— Heaven.* 

There is a stream that ever flows, 
To passing pilgrims given , 

209 OLBMmffOT. 

There fairest fruit immortal grows ; 
The verdant flower eternal blows, 
Amid the field of — ^Heayen. 

There is a great and glorious prize, ^ 

For those with sin whoVe striven ; 
'Tis bright as star of evening skies, 
And far above it glittering lies, 
A golden crown in — ^Heaven. 



TOUNQ- friend of mine lately died, and in 
the dreamy wanderings of his last hours 
seemed to think that his lassitude and pain 
were occasioned by hard labor. He often 
said, as he tossed in his agony, " Oh, let me 
go home ! I am very weary." 

In these words, methought, we have the expres- 
sion of many a Christian soul. Though willing to 
abide as a hireling his day, he is weary with 
task-work, and would be glad to have the yoke 
lifted from his neck. And, blessed be God, there 
is a home where Christ will receive His people, 
worn with toil, at the close of the day. There re- 
maineth a rest for the people of God, a Sabbath 
after the working-days, a jubilee after the bondage, 
a " continuing city " after the pilgrimage, a father- 
land after the exile. Oh, that we were panting for 
it more ! Oh, that we were prizing it more duly 1 
Oh, that we were better prepared to enter on it 1 
Good Mr. Waugh, of London, used to say, 


*' There will be rest enough in heaven." True and 
gracious words. Let them encourage us during 
hours of weariness in service. Heaven will be 
sweeter for our weariness. Though we ought not 
to be discontented, nor in haste to be gone, we may 
sometimes lawfully be "in a strait betwixt two," 
longing to be with Christ, " which is far better." 
Our home is above : 

*^ There my best friends, my kindred dwell, 
There God my Sayioor reigns." 

An eminent German Christian once said to a 
friend of mine, " I am a homesick TrumP Thus 
he strongly expressed his desire of Heaven. Pro- 
bably every Christian often looks upward and 
ejaculates with the dying youth, "Let me go 
home !" 


iiM Ine, 8«5 lUa* 

AT of wrath 1 that awful day 
Shall the banner'd cross display. 
Earth in ashes melt away 1 

The trembling, the agony, 
When His coming shall be nigh, 
Who shall all things judge and try 1 

When the trumpet's thrilling tone 
Through the tombs of ages gone, 
Summons all before the throne. 

Death and Time shall stand aghast ; 
And Creation, at the blast 
Bise to answer for the past. 

Then the volume shall be spread, 
And the writing shall be read. 
Which shall judge the quick and dead. 

Then the Judge shall sit ; oh I then, 
All that's hid shall be made plain, 
Unrequited naught remain. 


What shall wretched I then plead ? 
Who for me shall intercede, 
When the righteous scarce is freed! 

King of dreadful Majesty, 
Saving souls in mercy free, 
Fount of Pity, save Thou me I 

Bear me, Lord, in heart, I pray, 
Object of Thy saving way. 
Lest Thou lose me on that Day. 

Weary, seeking me, wast Thou, 
And for me in death didst bow — 
Be Thy toils availing now 1 

Judge of Justice, Thee, I pray, 
Grant me pardon, while I may, 
Ere that awfdl reckoning day. 

O'er my crimes I guilty groan, 
Blush to think what I have done } 
Spare Thy suppliant. Holy One. 

Thou didst set the adidtress free— 
Heard'st the thief upon the tree — 
Hope vouchsafing e'en to me. 


Naught of Thee my prayers can claun ; 
Save in Thy firee mercy's name, 
Save me from the deathless flame. 

With Thy sheep my place assign, 

Separate from th' accursed line ; 

Set me on Thy right hand, with Thine. 

When the lost, to silence driven, 
To devouring flames are giv^a, 
Call me, with the blest, to Heaven. 

Suppliant, fallen, low I bend. 
My bruised heart to ashes rend ; 
Care Thou, Lord, for my last end. 

Full of tears the day shall prove, 
When, from ashes rising, move 
To the judgment guilty men; 
Spare, Thou God of mercy, thenl 

[This powerfdl hymn was originally written in 
Latin by Thomas Van Oelano, about the year 1250, 
and has been set to music by Mozart and several 
other composers. Goethe has quoted from it in 
"Faust," and Scott in the "Lay of the Last Mm- 
strel.'' The present translation is by the author of 
the "Cathedral;'] 

208 GLSiCEErcr. 

)HE following was the dying testimony of 
the learned Selden : " I have taken much 
pains to know everything that was esteemed 
worth knowing among men ; but with all 
my disquisitions and readings, nothing now 
remains with me, to comfort me, at the close of life, 
but this passage of St. Paul : * It is a faithful say- 
ing, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ 
Jesus came into the world to save sinners ;' to this I 
cleave, and herein I find rest." 


HE Poet dreamt of Heaven I 
He strayed, a little child, amidst the glen, 
Where, in his boyhood he'd been wont to 
He heard the very sounds he loved so then, 
And knew* the very forms. Twas in this 

The Poet dreamt of Heaven I 

The Mother dreamt of Heaven 1 
She saw her children decked in gems and flowers ; 

•And one, whose health had always been amiss. 
Was blooming now as those celestial bowers 

He laughed to roam among. And, dreamingthis 
The Mother dreamt of Heaven 1 

Her Children dreamt of Heaven ! 
Oh 1 'twas a glorious land, where daisies grew, 

And hidden music round it sounded low ; 
And playtime lasted there the whole year through, 
And angels came and joined with them. Twas so 
Her children dreamt of Heaven! 


The Travler dreamt of Heaven I 
The Bun one mom with trebled splendor rose, 

And showed his wearied eyes a place at last, 
Where all was taintless joy, and calm repose, 
And quiet thinking of the dangerous past 
They said its name was Heaven* 

The Mourner dreamt of Heaven I 
Before his eyes, so long with sorrow dim, 

A glorious sheen, like lengthened lightning 
blazed ; 
And from the clouds one face looked down on him, 
Wbose beauty thrilled his veins. And as he 
He knew he gazed on Heaven 1 

And let them all dream on! 
Heaven's for the pure, the just, the undefiled : 

And so our lives, by holy faith, are such. 
Our dreams may be erroneous, varying, wild ; 
But oh 1 we cannot think and hope too much: 
So let them all dream on I 

J-ade. I^rosperity. 

" Keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of 
onr Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life." 

)HE CHRTSOPKASUS is the precious 
stone of the tenth foundation of tiie 
City of the Great King, where it is sealed 
with the name of Jnde. The agate is 
formed of an aggregate of crystals and 
other precious mineral^, and is, consequently, a 
picturesque and fancifully marked gem of endless 
variety of colors and devices. One kind is of a 
cloudy green, striped and spotted with gold, and 
this is, saith my authority, the chrysoprasus of the 
Revelation, Many agates have been quite famous 
for their beauty. King Pyrrhus had a ring made 
of this stone (says KeUy), in whidi sat the nine 
muses, with their distinct symbols or devices, 
and Apollo holding a harp. Tradition speaks of 
others that displayed perfect images of men, single 
and in groups, horses, trees, landscapes, flowers, 



clouds and citiee. Some specimens are found semi- 
pellucid, but more generally the agate is opaque. 
The chief excellency of this gem was esteemed to 
be that it was an unfailing antidote against the 
wounds of vipers and scorpions. One celebrated 
commentator, Dr. Prideaux, considers the chryso- 
prasus to typify Patience ; but, being the symbol 
of Asher, whose very appellation signifies happy — 
for whom Moses, in his swan-like song, predicted 
every imaginable good, and whose life was signally 
fortunate and, felicitous, he being blessed with all 
the varieties that sea and land could supply — 
Pbospketty appears the more appropriate interpre- 

Saint Jude, elsewhere called Lebbeus and Thad- 
deus — for the sacred writers shun, apparently, the 
name of the perfidious Iscariot — although the 
brother of Christ, does not figure as a prominent 
character among the disciples, for there is scarcely 
any note of him. Ecclesiastical writers, however, 
aflSbrm him tp have been an apostle of superior 
powers and achievements. The specimen of his 
writings here quoted is from his sole Epistle. 
As an exhortation it is not surpassed for earnestness 
and fervor by any of the inspired penmen. " Keep 
yourselves in the love of God, looking for the 

PBospSRmr. 218 

mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life." 
How masterly is the transition from the solemn 
denunciations which he thunders on the wicked, 
admonishing them of the impending vengeance 
of God, which are so closely interwoven through- 
out the whole previous part of the chapter, to this 
tender, soul-felt valedictory to his belbved disci- 
ples! In this passage there is a dual lesson in- 
culcated — SL twofold duty enjoined. The first 
division, "Keep yourselves," implies personal 
effort ; that a certain amount, at least, of power 
is vested in oureelves ; — and in the next place, that 
having exerted ourselves to the utmost, we are to 
be always, for further strength, " looking for the 
mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life." 

Herein is the genuine prosperity ; to bask in 
the smile of God's favor here, and to have a title 
to eternal life hereafter. To a soul who is possessed 
of this, death will come, not as a grim, frightful 
monster, but in the guise of a loving angel-messen- 
ger to tranquillize him to peaceful slumber. Said 
Kollin, when dying, " I wish to see no tears, and 
no marks of affliction ; this day with us is a festi- 
val." He who cultivates such a frame of mind as 
Jude exhorts, will feast daintily on a crust of 
bread) and enjoy honeyed slumber mid the straw 


of a hoveL Adrendty, and the ills of this life, 
£Eill but lightly on him who knows that ^' a glorious 
kingdom and a beautiful crown from the Lord's 
hand '' await him after that he has endured a few 
more conflicts in the service of his Great Captain. 
" This is the prosperity of them that love Thee," 
a soul unscbthed by the turmoils and trials of the 
chequered mazes of the world, and an unalienable 
title to one of the many mansions on high. 

^ *Ti8 but a night, a long and moonless night, 
We make the graye our bed, and then are gone. 
Thus at the shut of eyen the weary bird 
Iieayefl the wide air, and in some lonely brake 
Cowers down, and doses till the dawn of day ; 
Then ol^ts its well-fledged wings and bears away." 

A. B* Ck 


%\t ^txQt Iff IffrJram 

STAND upon the river^s verge, 

Its wave^ break at my feet ; 
And can the roar of this dark snrge 

Sound in my ears so sweet ? 
Higher and higher swells its wave, 

Nearer the billows come ; 
And can a dark and lonely grave 
Outweigh a long-loved home ? 

THs not alone the billow's roar 

That falls upon my ear ; 
But music from yon far-off shore 

Is wafted sweet and clear ; 
For angel harps are tuned to cheer 

My faltering human faith, 
And angel tongues are chanting there 

Triumphal hope in death. 

Though dim and clouded grows my sight, 

It rests not on the grave ; 
It sees a land in glory bright 

Beyond &e darkiening wave ; 


The gales that toss its crest of foam 
Come from that far-off shore, — 

They whisper of another home 
Where parting is no more. 

The everlasting hills arise, 

Bright in immortal bloom. 
The radiance of those smmy skies 

Illumines e'en the tomb ; 
And glorious on those hills of light 

I see my own abode, — 
E'en now its turrets are in sight — 

The City of our God 1 

Loved faces look upon me now. 

And well known voices speak 1 
Oh 1 when they left me long ago, 

I thought my heart would break 1 
They beckon me to yonder strand. 

Their hymns of triumph swell, 
I see my own, n^y kindred band, — 

Earth, home, and time, farewell 1 

"Welcome, the waves that bear me o'er, 
Though dark and cold they be 1 

To gain my home on yonder shore 
I'll brave them joyously ; 

pROBFEErrr. Sit 

The snowyj tlood-waslie'd rote I'll wear, 

Tlie palm of victory I 
"Welcome, tlie waves that waft me there, 

Thougli dark and cold tliej be ! 



^HAT a moment must that be? how vast 
its consequences I — how overwhelming 
its revelations I Let us try, by illustra- 
tion, to realize it. There dies a saint 
of God. The summons was sudden, but 
his house was in order, and, with a smile on his 
face, he bids a glad adieu to the scenes of friendship 
on earth. Coldness passes from point to point in 
his system ; his vision grows dim ; his tongue falter- 
ing ; but in strong faith he commits his all to the Con- 
queror of death, and passes away shouting an ever- 
lasting victory I The spirit soars — angels attend it — 
the gates of the city are open to receive it — ^the 
King is seen in His beauty — and now heaven is 
enjoyed in all its bliss and glory I Waking up from 
his life-dream, the first sight is Jesus as he is — ^no 
flight through immensity — ^no pilgrimage of the 
spheres — ^for the everlasting arms are the resting 
place of the disembodied soul — ^it will be in the 
bosom of Immanuel that the emancipated spirit 
will inquire, " Where am I ?" and read in the face 
of Jesus the answer, " Forever with the Lord 1" 

^lK)0pa»tTt. 21d 

^am IS net m 

\Y home is not on earth ; far, far away. 
In regions bright, 
Where shines an everlasting day, 

Unpal'd by night ; 
Where conntleds throngs, in spirit (me, 
Forever glorious as the son. 
Shall live, when time has ceased to run,— 
There is my home. 

Earth's pleasures may not satisfy my soulj 

Its tinsel glare. 
But makes me pant to reach that goal 

Serene and fair; 
Where peace and love the air perfume — 
Where an eternal summer's bloom. 
And joy, and gladness, banish gloom, — 

There is my home. 

Fair streams and smiling meads I now behold. 

In bright array ; 
And beauteous flowers their varied charms unfold, 

But to decay. 


Where streams of crystal onward flow — 
Where streets of gold in splendor glow, 
And fadeless flowers in beauty grow, — 
There is my home. 

Now while on earth I many kind Mends see, 

Dear to my heart. 
Whose love and friendship cheer; but we 

Meet to depart 
Where lips shall never breathe farewell. 
Nor tears the parting anguish tell, 
Where friends united ever dwell,— 

There is my home. 

On high, by faith, my vision can command 

My Saviour King ; 
And saints with harps of gold before him stand, 

EQs praise to sing I 
Where, seated on the eternal throne. 
He shall his faithful followers own 
With gracious smile ; in heaven alone — 

There is my home 1 

SoBEBT Fbamb. 


TJR relatives in eternity outnumber our 
relatives in time. The catalogue of the 
living we love becomes less, and in antici- 
pation we see the perpetually lengthening 
train of the departed; and by their flight 
our affections grow gradually less glued to earth, 
and more allied to heaven. It is not in vain that 
the images of our departed children, and near and 
dear ones, are laid up in memory, as in a picture 
gallery, from which the ceaseless surge of this 
world's cares cannot obliterate them. They wait 
there for the light of the resurrection-day, to stand 
forth holy, beautifol, and happy, our fellow-wor- 
shippers forever. 

SSa vmrnFEssrw. 

These beautifal lines, from the ** Dublin Uniyeraity lUgsiine,'' 
wHI remind the reader of the last scene in the ** Pilgrim's Progress.** 

DCS is a riyer deep and wide, 

And while along its banks we stray, 
"We see our lov'd ones o'er its tide 
Sail from our sight, away, away. 
Where are they sped — ^they who return 

No more to glad our longing eyes? 
They've passed from life's contracted bourne 
. To land unseen, unknown, that lies 

Beyond the river. 

THs hid from view, but we may guess 

How beautiful that realm must be ; 
For gloamings of its loveliness, 

la visions granted, oft we see. 
The very clouds that o'er it*throw 

Their veil, unraised for mortal sight, 
With gold and purple tintings glow, 

Beflected from the glorious light 

Beyond the river. 


And gentle airs, so sweet, so calm, 

Steal sometimes from that viewless sphere ; 
The mourner feels their breath of balm. 

And soothed sorrow dries the tear ; 
And sometimes list'ning ear may gain 

Entrancing sound that hither floats ; 
The echo of a distant strain. 

Of harps' and voices' blended notes, 

Beyond the river. 

There are our loved ones in. their rest ; 

They've cross'd Time's river — ^now no more 
They heed the bubbles on its breast. 

Nor feel the storms that sweep its shore. 
But there pure love can live, can last — 

They look for us their home to share : 
"When we in turn away have pass'd, 

"What joyful greetings wait us there^ 

Beyond the river. 


f rirsjjmtg ani ^Jrtoitn. 

)F you listen even to David's harp, you shall 
hear ss many hearse-like airs as carols ; and 
the pencil of the Holy Spirit hath labored 
more in describing the afflictions of Job than 
the felicities of Solomoii. Prosperity is not 
without many fears and distrusts ; and adversity is 
not without comforts and hopes. We see, in needle- 
works and embroideries, it is more pleasant to have 
a lively work upon a dark and solemn ground, than 
to have a dark and melancholy work upon a light- 
some ground. Judge, therefore, of the pleasures 
of the heart by the pleasures of the eye. Certainly 
virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when 
they are crushed ; for prosperity doth best discover 
vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue. 

Lord Baoon. 


)E wish thee joy, oh friend 1 who, travel- 
And worn, dost rest thee from thy 
journeying ; 
We wish thee joy, pure soul I that thou 
hast gained 
The golden courts, the palace of our King:' 
Safe in the haven blest, 
Eest thee, dear spirit, rest. 

Do not thy earnest eyes, oh gentle friend 1 

In their dark beauty, many an anxious glance 
Cast on the loved ones 'midst whom thou didst 
Thy lustrums five of Time's inhabitance ; — 
Who mourn in fruitless tears. 
The perished hopes of years ? 

Springing from earth on snowy pinions borne, 

Thy dying smile gave earnest of thy joy ; 
Bathed in the crimson of th' approaching mom, 


226 PBOBPSfinf. 

Thy placid brow spoke peace without alloy. 
Sweetly thy benison fell, 
Like music's richest swell. 

Methinks the first to hail thy glad awaking, 

"Was one, a youthful soul, in vesture bright ; 
Whose loss with us thou wept, when he, forsaking 
This Vale of Shadows, sought the mount of light. 
Dear kindred spirits, rest 
Safe in the haven blest 

TVas hard to lay thy stately form in dust, 

The dassic head, and clustering raven hair ; — 
The cunning hands, that, true to art's high trust 
"Wrought into being glints of beauty rare. 
But angels guard thy tomb 
Till the New Spring shall bloom. 

To Greenwood, city of the loved and treasured. 

We bore thee, where the mourning willows bend, 
'Mid winter's chilling rain, sad steps we measured, 
And laid thee to soft sleep, beloved friend 1 
Eest, till the Trump's loud sound. 
Arouse the slumberers round ! 

Flows there a Lethean stream where thou dost 
Flows a dark fount, old men^ories to efface ? 


Or do the Eden waters in their swell, 
But sanctify them with a nobler grace ? 
Bright nursling of the sky, 
Can faithful love e'er die ? 

Ah, spirit wandering by the Tree of Life, 

"Waking thy tuneful harp in prelude sweet ; 
Hast thou no visions of this land of strife, 
No yearning hopes the loved of yore to greet- 
On the Eternal shore. 
When time shall be no more ? 

Tes : by my soul's own fervor well I know, 

Oblivion may not mar that holy state j 
Once loved, loved ever, say is it not so, 
Thou who hast entered through the pearly gate! 
Would that we, spirit blest. 
Might share thy peaceful rest I 

▲. B. G. 

S38 PB06PEBIT7. 

<&m tot lurt first. 

)FST above the Highlandfl, the Hudson is 
widened into what is called Newbnrgh 
Bay ; it is a beautiful expanse of water, rest- 
ing against the hills, as if it had gathered 
itself up for strength, before it burst away 
through the mountain barriers into the sea. On 
the eastern shore as it slopes toward the bay, is a 
church and churchyard, as delightfiilly planted for 
prospect as any on the banks of this river. It was 
in this graveyard that I first met, on a tombstone, 
the inscription that stands at the head of these 
lines, and the scene and the associations render the 
mention of the circumstance suitable. 

" Gone but not lost.'' It was the tribute of aflfec- 
tion and faith. It expressed in simple but graphic 
words the sad truth that one was gone, and also 
the sublime assurance that the departed was not 

Was it a fact? I confess it startied me at first 
A few months since, and the one whose grave I 


was standing by, had lived and moved, and filled, 
perhaps no little space in a wide circle of friends. 
But the place was now vacant ; the outer man had 
been seen to fail day by day ; death finished the 
work, the grave cov^ed it up, the worms had 
their prey. And not lost 1 not lost I I reasoned a 
moment before I could be satisfied that the epitaph 
was not (like most epitaphs) mere rhetoric. 

A broad and beautiful stream was before me. 
Its wafers were rolling silently but steadily on 
towards the mighty sea. They are here — ^they are 
gone — ^never, never to return. Are they lost ? 
Every drop is there, as pure and perennial as when 
gliding at my feet 

A white-sailed vessel was just entering the gap 
of the Highlands ; the summer breeze freshened, 
and bore it out of view. It was gone, but it was 
not lost. 

The star that " melts away into the light of hea- 
ven," when the bright sun rises upon the world, or 
the star that goes down below the western hills, or 
the sun itself that sets in glory, is gone; but to 
shine again with equal or brighter lustre. It is not 
lost. Not a ray of its living light has perished. 

A holy man, in the early ages of the world, 
walked with God and " was not," — ^for God took 


him. He was gone. The places tiiat knew him 
once knew him no more. But he was not lost. He 
lived; he yet lives. 

A certain prophet of the Lord was walking with 
another whom he tenderly loved; and suddenly 
there " appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of 
fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah 
went up by a whirlwind into heaven. And Elisha 
saw it, and he cri^, My father, my father, the 
chariot of Israel and the horses thereof. And h» 
9mo him no more.^^ He was gone, but not lost. 

A disconsolate female came to Uie grave of h^ 
best beloved friend, and as she saw that his pre- 
cious remains were gone^ she cried, "They have 
taken away my Lord, and I know not where they 
have laid him.'^ She thought in her sorrow, as 
most of the bereaved are wont to think, that she 
had lost her all ; when one stood before her and 
said, " Mary," and the joy of life from the dead 
burst in rapture on her soul. It was the voice of 
her beloved. She had found her Lord. He was 
gone, but not lost. 

This was a natural, if not a profitable train of 
thought. A believer writes this inscription over 
the ashes of a departed saint Day by day disease 
wears away the tabernacle of clay; by and by 


death dashes in pieces the " golden bowl," and the 
wheel at the cistern stands still. But the freed 
spirit starts into new existence before the eternal 
throne, and like an angel of light, leaps in gladness 
and glory unutterable and inconceivable. And is 
that saint lost f In a diamond mine is found a clod 
of eardi that contains a gem of great price. It is 
taken from him that found it, and polished for him 
who owns the mine and aH its gems ; and now it 
sparkles on the bosom of the queen, or shines 
radiantly in the royal coronet. Is that jewel lost? 
And if the Monarch of the Universe could find in 
thb darkness of this lower world, gems that infinite 
skiU can polish for His use, shall we count them lost 
when He makes up His jewels and takes them to 

282 FROBFEsrrT. 

% €^nstisK IPtamtr's Hj^tasi^td. 

HE hour, the hour, the parting hour. 
That takes from this dark world its power. 
And lays at once its thorn and flower 

On the same withering bier, my soul I 
The hour that ends all earthly woes, 
And gives the wearied soul repose, — 
How soft, how sweet, that last, long close 
Of mortal hope and fear, my soul I 

How sweet, while on this broken lyre 

The melodies of time expire. 

To feel it strung with chords of fire. 

To praise the Immortal One, my soul I 
And while our farewell tears we pour 
To those we leave on this cold shore. 
To feel that we shall weep no more. 

Nor dwell in heaven alone, my soul I 

How sweet, while waning fast away 
The stars of this dim world decay. 
To see, prophetic of the day. 


The golden dawn above, my soul I 
To feel we only sleep to rise 
In sunnier lands in fairer skies, 
To bind again our broken ties 

In ever-living love, my soul 1 

The hour, the hour, so pure and cahn, 
That bathes the wounded soul in balm, 
And round the pale brow binds the palm. 

That shuns this wintry dime, my soul I 
The hour that draws o'er earth and all 
Its briers and blooms, the mortal pall, — 
How soft, how sweet that evening-fall 

Of fear, and grief, and time, my soul t 

I K ( i n 1 1[. 

Bimoii Zelotes. "Viotoxr. 

" ^moB, called Zelotes.** 

)HE JACINTH, or Ligure, is the precious 
stone oi the eleventh foundation of the 
Home of the Sanctified, where it is in- 
scribed with the name of Simon. The 
Jacinth is a gem of b warm orange or amber 
color, about semi-transparent. It is called the 
Ligure, from its native place, ligurea, a coimtry 
of Italy. Having no reliable guidance in assign- 
ing to it a character, I am disposed to consider it 
as figurative of Victoey, from the language of 
Moses to Gad, when, in the memorable closing 
scene of his eventful pilgrimage, the great Legis- 
lator blessed the twelve tribes, and foretold their 
individual destinies. He thus prophesied to Gad 
of a victorious career and triumphant success 
over his enemies: "Blessed be he that enlargeth 
Gad, he dwelleth as a lion, and teareth the arm 
with the crown of the head." The rich saf&on 


glov of the jacinth blending with the royal pur- 
ple of the succeeding amethyst, may suggest to 
a spiritualized imagination, a liyely emblem of 
the close of the faithful Christian's day ; — of the 
superb drapery of gold and purple that canopies 
his setting sun, and curtains his peaceful exit I Or, 
peradrenture, it may better serve to typify his 
rising in the resurrection-mom in the full radiance 
of immortality. 

Of Saint Simon there is no single utterance re- 
corded, no particular mention in the Gospels, save 
that he is enumerated among the chosen twelve. 
Simon the Canaanite he is likewise called, probably 
in reference to his birth-place; Zelotes, being an 
addition on account of his connection with the sect 
of Zealots. He is generally believed to be the bride- 
groom at whose nuptials in Cana of Gralilee our 
Saviour performed the miracle of turning water into 
wine. Whether or not, the title had, as some are 
disposed to think, allusion to the warmth of his 
natural temper, he proved himself, according to 
ecclesiastical history, an indefatigable apostle in 
the service of his Lord, and a victorious pioneer 
of the blessed Gospel of Jesus Christ, until, from 
the martyr's cross, he ascended to receive the 
victor's crown. "This is the vi^tcoy that over* 


Cometh the world, even onr faith." The expres- 
sion of the Emperor Valentinian, when about to 
quit the world, was a memorable one : ^' Amongst 
all my conquests, there is but one that now com- 
forts me ; I have overcome my worst enemy, my 
own sinful heart." 

There is a pretty tradition extant, that the sun 
always dances with joy early on Easter-mom, in 
commemoration of Christ's bursting from the 
thralldom of the tomb: and not seldom have I 
been summoned from childhood's slumber to wit- 
ness the phenomenon. But though this sign often 
fails through the interposition of mists and obscur- 
ing vapors, yet, on that momentous Easter-mom, 
when Christ, the Conqueror, comes again in the 
magnificence of His Kingdom, no cloud shall in- 
tervene to mar the eflFulgence of His rays ! On 
that all-glorious Resurrection-mom, when the soul, 
eager and glad, hath donned its olden garment of 
flesh, now fresh in the lustre of immortal youth, 
and the Judgment is over which eternally separates 
those who have served God from those who have 
served him not ; what a triumphal procession will 
that be when Christ, at the head of His ransomed 
legions, marches through the shining portals of 
Heaven ! The work of Creation and Bedemption 


completed, immortality now is perfect. Oh, de- 
sponding sonl, bowed beneath the burden of 
earth's griefs, raise thy tearful eyes, and exult in 
the ecstatic anticipation! Victory 1 While that 
jubilant throng advances up the golden streets — 
the beUs of the City all a-chiming — instruments of 
music playing — ^palms of victory waving — every 
face beamiug unutterable pleasure, — what ac- 
clamations \W11 rend the perfumed air, and what 
congratulations and greetings will be inter- 
changed! Adam salutes his latest descendant; 
a patriarch embraces an infant of a few mundane 
suns ; a seraph communes with an xmlettered 
lazar; and the last redeemed from the church 
militant, joins in dulcet numbers with Abel, the 
first initiated into life immortal. All dissonances 
and distinctions of creed now abolished^ none say 
" I am of Paul ; I of Apollos," but all haU from 
Christ, their Living Head. Thus shall the true 
Victory be celebrated, in which, by anticipatory 
faith, believers even now participate ! 

A. B. G. 

2S8 flCflOKT. 

ORE than Conquerors," we sing, 

Pilgrims in a hostile land, 
Trasting in our Lord and King, 

Shielded by His guiding hand. 
He from every danger saves, 

Comforts every drooping heart, 
Struggling through life's troublous waves, 
Peace and joy His words impart. 

^^ More than conquerors " we sing, 

As we muse on trials past. 
Anguish with its secret sting. 

Cares that heavy shadows cast-:- 
Rough and thorny seemed the way, 

Dark the clouds above us spread, 
But the arm of Christ, our stay, 

Gtently, safely, onward led. 

" More than conquerors," we'll sing, 
When we reach our home on high. 

Heaven shall with our praises ring, 
Ai^els echo back the cry. 


When from some celestial height, 

"We review our earthly road, 
See how trnoi^aiid Mnd, and right, 

Were the dealings of our God. 

" More than conquerors " they sing, 

Who have gained that heavenly shore; 
They to whom our spirits cling, 

Loved and cherished, gone before. 
As we tread this vale of tears. 

Faintly we their notes prolong, 
Soon shall gladness banish fears, 

Soon we'll swell their victor song. 

" More than conquerors through the Lambj 

Who to ransom us hath died. 
Now before His throne we stand, 

Sinners saved and purified. — 
Gazing on his glorious face. 

Joyful we before Him fall. 

Prince and Saviour full of grace, 

Beign forever, Lord of all I" 



CLERGYMAN had for some weeks seen 
a little ragged boy come every Sabbath, 
and place himself in the centre of the 
aisle, directly before the pulpit, where he 
seemed very attentive to the service, and as 
if eating np his words. He was desirous of know- 
ing who the child was ; but he never could see him, 
as he vanished the moment service was over, and 
no one knew whence he came, or anything about 
him. At length the boy was missed from 
his usual place in the church. At this time a man 
called on the minister, and told him that a person, 
very ill, was desirous of seeing him, but added, "I 
am ashamed to ask you to go so far; yet it is a 
chU^ of mine, and he refuses to have any one but 
you. He is altogether an extraordinary boy, and 
talks a great deal about things that I do not under- 

The clergyman went. The rain poured down in 
torrents ; and he had six miles of rugged moun- 


tain roads to pass. On arriving where he was 
directed, he found a wretched cabin ; and the man 
he had seen in the morning was waiting at the 
door. He was shown in, and found the inside of 
the hovel as miserable as the outside. In a comer, 
on a little straw, he beheld a poor creature, 
stretched out, whom he recognized as the little boy 
who had so regularly attended his church ! As he 
approached the bed, the child raised himself up, and, 
stretching forth his arms, said, "His own right 
hand hath gotten Him the victory !" and immedi- 
ately expired. 


248 iwiWT. 

** And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion 
with songs and eyerlasting joy upon their heads.*' 

HEKE the faded flower shall freshen — 

Freshen, never more to fade ; 
Where the shaded sky shall brighten — 

Brighten, never more to shade : 
Where the sunblaze never scorches ; 
Where the starbeams cease to chiU; 
Where no tempest stirs the echoes 
Of the wood, the wave, the hill ; 
Where the mom shall wake in gladness, 

And the noon the joy prolong ; 
Where the daylight dies in fragrance 
t 'Mid the burst of holy song ; — 
Brother, we shall meet and rest 
'Mid the holy and the blest. 

Where no shadow shall bewilder ; 
Where life's vain parade is o'er ; 

TicnoET. MS 

Whire €be aleep of sin is bitten, 

Asd the dreamer dreams no more ; 
Where the bond is never severed, 

^Partings, clasprngB^ sob, and moan^ 
ICicbQdght waking, twilight weeping, 

Heavy noontide, all are done ; 
Where the child halli found its mother, 

Where the mother &ids her child ; 
Where dear families are gather'd % 

That were scattered om the wild ;**— 
Bro&er, we shall meet and rest 
'Mid &e holy and tjie blest 

Where iihe hidden wound is healed ; 

Where the blighted life reblooms ; 
Where the smitten heart the freshness 

Of its buoyant youth resumes ; 
Where the love that here we lavish 

On the withering leaves of time, 
Shall have fadeless flowers to fix on, 

In an ever spring-bright clime ; 
Where we find the joy of loving 

As we never loved before ; 
Loving on, unchilled, unhindered, — 

Loving once, and evermore ; — 
Brother, we shall meet and rest 
'Mid the holy and the blest 

S44 vioroBT. 

Where a blasted world shall brighten 

Underneath a purer sphere, 
And a softer, gentler sunshine 

Shed its healing splendor here : 
Where earth's barren vales shall blossom, 

Patting on their robe of green, 
And a pnrer, fairer Eden 

Be where only wastes have been ; 
Where a King in kingly glory, 

Such as earth has never known, 
Shall assume the righteous sceptre. 

Claim and wear the holy crown ; — 
Brother, we shall meet and rest 
'Mid the holy and the blest 

vioroBT. 246 

fast pjormtnts ei %a\tt %rm. 

N Monday, the twenty-fourth of Novem- 
ber, 1572, he got np in the morning, and 
partially dressed himself, but feeling weak, 
he lay down again. They asked him if he 
was in pain? "It is na painful pain," he 
answered, "but such a one as, I trust, shall put an 
end to the battle.'' His wife sat by him with the 
Bible open on her knees. He desired her to read 
the fifteenth chapter of the first of Corinthians. 
He thought he was dying as she finished it. " Is 
not that a beautiful chapter?" he said; and then 
added, "Now, for the last time I commend my 
spirit, soul and body, into thy hands, O Lord." But 
the crisis passed off for the moment. Towards 
eyening he lay still for seyeral hours, and at ten 
o'clock " they went to their ordinary prayer, whilk 
was the longer, because they thought he was sleep- 
ing." "WTien it was over the physician asked him 
if he had heard anything. " Aye," he said, "I wad 
to Ood that ye and all men heard as I have heard, 


and I praise God for that heavenly Bound." Sud- 
denly he gave a long sigh and sob, and cried out, 
" Now it is come 1" Then Bichard Bannatyne, sit- 
ting down before him, said, ^' Now, sir, the time 
that ye have long called for, to wit, an end of your 
battle, is come ; and, seeing all natural power now 
fails, remember the comfortable promise which oft- 
time ye have shewn to us of our Saviour Christ ; 
and that we may understand and know that ye hear 
us, make some sign ;'' and so he lifted up his hand ; 
and incontinent thereafter, "rendered up the 
spirit, and sleepit away without ony pain." In 
•uch sacred stillness, the strong spirit which had so 
long battled with the storm, passed away to God. 

Westmiksteb Kevikw. 



^ f jttk m\ih. 

ETOND the smiling and ihe weeping, 
I shall be soon ; 
Beyond the waking and the sleeping, 
Beyond the sewing and the reaping, 
I shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home I 

Sweet home I 
Lord, tarry not, but come. . 

Beycmd the blooming and the fading, 

I shall be soon ; 
Beyond the shining and the shading. 
Beyond the hoping and the dreading, 

I shall be soon. 

Love, rest, and home I 
Sweet home 1 

Lord, tarry not, but come. 

Beyond the rising and the setting, 

I shall be soon; 
Beyond the calming and the fretting, 


Beyond remembering and forgetting, 
I shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home 1 

Sweet home I 
Lord, tarry not, but come. 

Beyond the parting and the meeting, 

I shall be soon ; 
Beyond the farewell and the greeting. 
Beyond the pulse's fever beating, 

I shall be soon. 

Love, rest, and home 1 
Sweet home I 

Lord, tarry not, but come. 

Beyond the frost-chain and the fever, 

I shall be soon ; 
Beyond the rock-waste and the river, 
Beyond the ever and the never, 
I shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home t 

Sweet home I 
Lord, tarry not, but come. 

Bev. Db. BONAB. 


fail. Ut laps S^ptM 

AIL, ye blest inhabitants of that lovely and 
peaceful land 1 Hail, ye happy spirits, of 
the sainted dead! We feel, even here 
upon earth, a comfortable earnest of your 
celestial joys. The bright landscape of 
those immortal realms lies before the eyes of our 
faith in smiles of invitation. We are cheered, even 
on these low grounds of sin and sorrow, by the 
dawn of an eternal morning, and we have a desire 
to depart ; yet, " all the days of our appointed time 
will we wait till our change come. Thou shall call, 
and w^ will answer Thee." 

Bev. H. Habbaugh. 


^latthiBM* Ixnznortal Joy* 

^ <«And the lot fell upon MatthiM.** 

)HE AMETHYST is the precious stone of 
the twelfth foundation of the Palace of the 
Bedeemed, where it is engraven with the 
name of Matthias. The amethyst is one 
of the most familiar and admired of gems 
from its wavelike transparency, and its color of a 
delicious violet, a compound of blue and red. 
This gem was called achdamah, from, to dream ; 
and it was thought that those who wore it as an 
amulet were blessed with happy dreams and pro- 
phetic insight into futurity. It was furthermore 
considered as a preventive of inebriation, and of 
evil thoughts; — a purifier of the brain, and an 
inspirer of graceful wit and prudence of deport- 
ment. It is, however, sufficiently obvious that 
the excellences attributed to this, and other pre- 
cious stones, ar^ either purely mythological, or the 
fabulous imaginings of grave triflers in science. 


After much deliberation, no mot-e suitable simili^ 
tude suggests itself for this gem than Immortal 
Joy, which is deduced from its color alone, as 
neither the history of Issachar nor that of Mat- 
thias, furnishes any available, clue, and ancient 
superstition is a sorry guidance. Purple is an 
imperial color ; the representative hue also of youth 
and immortality ; and thus the amethyst may 
at once remind us of princely dignity . and of 
perpetual vigor. In completing this incomparable 
structure, the Heavenly foundation, it appears 
appropriate that the Jacinth of Victory should 
be succeeded by the Amethyst of Immortal Joy. 
With regard to the general propriety of the allu- 
sive interpretations here assigned to the twelve 
gems of the City Walls, the better, and indeed 
the only true way to ascertain it, will be to refer 
to the histories of the twelve tribes, whose names 
were by them memorialized, and also to pursue 
the investigation through those of the Apostles. 
By us, however, they may be more proiliably con- 
templated as types of various divine graces and 

Of Saint Matthias, the last chosen of the Apos- 
tles, the Evangelists are silent until the period of 
election for one to fill the vacated office of Judas 


Iscariot. " And the lot fell upon Matthias," who 
was thereuxKm endowed with the powers of an 
apostle. His course was marked with wonderful 
success, and through his ministry multitudes were 
induced to embrace Christianity. He, at length, 
obtained Immortal Joy through the violence of his 
foes. May the lot of Eternal Life fall upon each of 
us as did the lot of apostleship upon Matthias! 
But then, like him, we must be constant followers 
of the Saviour, else we cannot hope for His gra- 
cious notice or approbation. 

The hope of Immortality 1 how does it exhila- 
rate our bosoms amid the depressive chills of this 
Valley I how beautiful a light does its purple 
flush shed athwart our graveward path 1 Faith is 
the true alchemist who alone is able to transmute 
the sorrows of the heart into the rich golden ore 
of hope. Earthly hopes perish— earthly friend- 
ships wither — earthly joys fade away, but the 
beatitudes of the better country are perennial. 
"Life and immortality are brought to light by 
the Gospel." Through it the pangs of death are 
assuaged, and a bridge spanned across the turbu- 
lent billows of Jordan. The ambrosial fruits of 
Paradise and its nectarine draughts are immortal ; 
and, sweeter than all, the loves and unions of 


Heaven are immortal I From the words of owr 
Saviour we are led to infer that mere earthly 
ties shall, as snch, be abolished ; but those are 
xmions according to the flesh only. Pure, spiritual 
love can never die, it is a flower amaranthine. 
We are not forbidden to believe, that, while the 
affection of the saved toward each other will be 
xmiversal and mutual, the measure will not, in all 
cases, be equal in intensity. There, as on earth, 
preferences will exist. Surely, the endeared com- 
panions who trode with us the thorny paths, of 
earth, who soothed us amid its vicissitudes, and 
bore with us the burden and heat of the day, will 
be dearest still I How delightful the proq)ect of 
renewed intercourse with them ! It will be the 
chief mbordinate felicity of heaven. My relatives, 
my friends, shall I not eagerly seek ye out amid 
even a myriad of shining ones I even among the 
" ten thousand times ten thousand ?" 

No more bitter partings there ; never, through 
those gates of glistening pearl, shall be borne 
forth the shrouded form beloved no more, to re- 
turn! Never through those towering archways 
shall be joumeyings forth to seek a continuing 
city; — ^never shall those crystal pavements be 
sullied with the tear-stain — ^never, never: the 


fonner things are forever passed away. Life's 
labor done, the weary toiler frequents no more 
the busy mart ; for him there henceforth remains 
an all-sufficing repose. Amauld, when Nicole, his 
fellow-laborer in writing, wished for rest, ex- 
claimed, " Best 1 will you not have all eternity to 
rest in ?" But inmiortal joy will not be experi- 
enced alone by the Kedeemed, for Christ shall 
rejoice in the finished work of His hands, and Gk>d 
shall rejoice in the honors of His Well-Beloved 
Son. " He will joy over thee with singing, 

"There shall be no more Death." 

In the present imperfect state of existence, this 
immunity would scarcely, perhaps, be esteemed 
a blessing; the decrepitudes of age, die agonies 
of bereavement, the languors of disease, often 
cause the grim foe to be welcomed as a benefactor. 
But "neither shall there be any more pain." 
What I shall this head no more throb with anguish ? 
shall this frame no more bum with fever ? shall 
these limbs no more quiver in the wild tossings of 
delirium ? Exempted from these evils, life may, 
perchance, be a valuable boon. But neither is 
this all; "God shall wipe away all tears from 
their eyes I" Here is the grand climax. Oh, my 
soul I will thy last tear be dried, thy days of 


mourning really be ended? Mark the tender 
condescension of our Heavenly Father. To efface 
those signs of woe,' no angel is deputed, neither 
Gabriel nor Raphael is commissioned; He does 
it Himself; with His own soothing and loving 
touch He restores smiles and bloom to the down- 
cast and grief-furrowed countenance. No more 
Death ! No more Pain ! No more Grief 1 Rest 
my soul, rest in thy goodly heritage, rest in God's 
love to theeward. 

Such transcendent hopes should produce a com- 
posure bold to endure the brunt of every earthly 
ill, and which shall smile undismayed amid the 
tumult and chaos of a dissolving universe. Thou, 
who dwellest in Immortality Divine I grant us to 
know Thee, whom to know is Life Eternal I 

A. B. 0« 


)HERE are bright homes 'mid bowers of 
deathless glory, 
lliere are blue sMes o'erbendmg them in 
Sweet wmds that never sighed ronnd rains 
Or sung the Autumn requiem of the grove. 
There are fair flowers by crystal waters springing, 

That never bore the semblance of decay. 
On the soft air their perfumed incense flinging 
In a land far away. 

There on the mountain tops, the day declining 
Hath never caused a twilight shade to rest, 

Each height an altar to Jehovah, shining 
With sun-like brightness o'er the valleys blest. 

And there are dwellers in those scenes of gladness, 
O'er whose pure being, Death can have no sway. 

Whose voices utter not a note of sadness 
In a land far away. 


Cherub, and Serapliiin of glory, bending 

In holy raptures at a Throne of Light : — 
Angels and Saints their songs of triumph blending, 

These are the dwellers in that region bright. 
And some have walked with us the path of sor- 
And felt the storms of many a wintry day ; 
But oh, they wakened to a glorious Morrow, 
In a land far away ! 

And shall we weep for those to joy departed ? 
Or should we mourn that they shall grieve no 
more ? 
Sick as we are, and sad, and weary-hearted, 

Shall we recall them from that blessed shore ? 
See where they dwell — ^the forms we loved and 
cherished — 
From Age, dim-eyed, with hair of silver grey, 
To the fair babe that like a blossom perished — 
In a land far away. 

Oh, best and dearest, ever-gentle mother. 
Who soothed me in thy tender arms to rest ; 

Stilling the cries that would have vexed another, 
By folding me in love upon thy breast I 

Green o'er thy grave, for years, the long grass, 

95S amoBiitAL jot. 

Hath seemed to mourn above ihj mouldering 
But well I know thj spirit dwells tmdying, 
In a land far away t 

And He, whose brightness snns and stars are veil- 

Whose Form, once seen, wonld blind our mortal 
With Him, who bore nnmoved, the scoffer's railing, 

And died to give ns entrance to the skies : — 
Father, and Son, and ever-blessed Spirit, 

There, by their presence, make eternal day I 
Oh t glorions are the homes the good inherit, 
In a land far away. 

QPCOBTAI. JO¥. fjfiii 

)HE suflfeiings of the just may well be 
likened to* fleeting shadows or passing 
dreams. As soon as the bright morning of 
eternity begins to dawn, the shades of mor- 
tality are dissipated forever, and they for- 
get at once in the glorious light of God's Majesty, 
the tribulation that endures but for a night. The 
unspeakable joys of which they now partake so 
absorb their souls that there is no room left for sor- 
row or sufferings. And if their past trials ai:e even 
remembered by them, it is but to swell their harps 
with fresh rapture, and to tune their voices to 
louder and sweeter anthems in the praise of Him, 
who has given them in exchange for their suffer- 
ings endless joy — in exchange for the cross a crown 
of unfading glory. 


^t l^alrMs pbtr. 

** Thert it a Rirer, the streftms whereof shall make glad the City 
of God."— Pi. xItL i. 

HEEE is a beauteous Biver 

In the city of our God, 
With margins of perpetual green 

By angel footsteps trod. 
It beareth faint resemblance 

To the rivers of the earth, 
For the lovely things around it 

Alike have Heavenly birth. 

No stars upon its bosom 

Reflect the gems of night — 
No showery clouds are mirrored 

Upon its surface bright. 
No lightning makes its water 

Like liquid fire to shine, 
Nor darkness veils its beauties 

In the glorious day's decline. 


AU-joyous, but serenely, 

Doth the crystal River glide 
Whose visitants are seraphs 

And spirits sanctified. 
No shadows o'er it hover 

But of song-enchanted trees, 
That wave with sweet rejoicing 

To the music-loving breeze. 

Ko faded leaf or blossom 

All mournful floateth by ; 
Each radiant flower that laveth. 

Hath bloom that ne'er shall die. 
And when love-ransome4 children 

Come hither from the earth, 
Immortal wreaths are gather'd, 

Kew buds have instant birth. 

Oh, fair and crystal Biver I 

Far dearer things than they. 
Have been mirrored on thy bosom, 

For many a glorious day ! 
My mother's robe of lightness. 

In many an airy fold ; 
Her face of saintly beauty, 

Her victor-crown of gold ! 

Form after fonn I dbmuhed, 

MetbinkB i now oaa traoe, 
Oome threnging to ihj mugin 

With high oelefltial grace. 
Oh, Eiver! loToly River, 

In the Oitj of oor Godl 
ShiEdl £, amid th j boway homes, 

E'er make mj blest abodel 

Mrs. E. H. Evaot. 

noioBfXAx. ^ar. £68 

I O mucli as moments are exceeded by eter- 
nity, and the sigliing of a man by tfie joys 
of an angel, and a salutary frown by the 
light of God's countenance, a few frowns by 
the infinite and eternal hallblujahs, so much 
are the sorrows of the godly to be undervalued in 
respect to what is deposited for them in the trea- 
sures of eternity. Their sorrows can die, but so 
cannot their joys. And, if the blessed martyrs and 
confessors were asked concerning their past suffer- 
ings, and their present rest, and the joys of their 
certain expectations, you should hear them glory in 
nothing, but in the mercies of God, and in the cross 
of the Lord Jesus. Every chain is a ray of light, 
and every prison is a palace, and every loss is the 
purchase of a kingdom, and every affi*ont in the 
cause of God is an eternal honor, and every day of 
sorrow is a thousand years of comfort, multiplied 
with a never-ceasing numeration; days without 
nights, joys without sorrows, sanctity without sin, 


charity without stain, possession without fear, 
society without envying, communication of joys 
without lessening ; and they shall dwell in a blessed 
country, where an enemy never entered, and from 
whence a friend never went away. 

jEBxmr Taylob. 



"ftt mt p, fax t\t M iwaktl." 

ET me go, the day is breaking, 

Eartkly scenes are fading fast ; 
Loves that were my heart awaking, 

Hopes and fears are with the past. 
Earthly visions now are darkling, 

And the city's golden glow. 
Gleams before me, pure and sparkling, 

In the distance ; — let me go I 

Angel hosts resplendent shining, 

Wait me at the river's side. 
And my eager heart is pining, 

But to meet them on the tide. 
I can see the life-founts gushing — 

I can hear their silvery flow ; 
Joys, a countless throng, are rushing 

O'er my spirit ; — ^let me go I 

He, the wounded, the forsaken, • 
In the death-hour sore dismay'd, 

All my grief and fear has taken, 
All my debt of sin has paid. 


I can see His Grod-like brightness — 
Through the form He wore below, 

On a throne of dazzling whiteness — 
And He calls me ; — let me go 1 

Friends, the early-loved, the cherish'd, 

Vanished from our paths like dew, 
With the mortal have not perish'd — 

1 behold them pure and true ; 
Lovelier in that far dominion, 

Fairer in their robes of snow. 
And they wait with drooping pinion, 

To enfold me ; — ^let me go 1 

Lay me gently on my pillow. 

Weary are my thom-piei'ced feet ; 
Christ has calmed the boisterous billow, 

And the rest beyond is sweet. 
Could ye share the glorious vision. 

Ye would not detain me so; — 
Now the homeward gales Elysian 

Woo my spirit ; — ^let me go I 


)E who live in hope, we who believe in 
God and trust that Christ suffered for 
us and rose again; we who aiide in 
Christ, and arise again by Him and in 
Him, why should we ourselves be un- 
willing to depart from out of the world, or why 
should we lament and sorrow for those among us 
who are departed ? Christ himself, our Lord and 
God, exhorts us, and he says : " I am the resurrec- 
tion and the life ; whosoever believeth in me 
though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and he 
that liveth and believeth in me shall never see 
dedth /" Why hasten we not to see our country, 
to salute our parents ? There a vast multitude of 
them that are dear to us, await our arrival, a mul- 
titude of parents, brethren, and children, who are 
now secure of their own salvation, and anodovs 
only (ibout ov/rs. What a mutual joy it will be 
for them and us, when we come into their presence 
and receive their embrace I 



URSUrrS are various here, suiting all tastes: 
Though holy all and glorifying God. 
Observe yon band pursue the sylvan 

stream I 
Mounting among the cliflEs — ^they pull the 
Springing as soon as pulled ; and marvelling, pry 
Into its veins, and circulating blood, 
And wondrous mimicry of higher life ; 
Admire its colors, fragrance, gentle shape ; 
And thence admire the Qod that made it so — 
So simple complex, and so beautiful 
Behold yon other band, in airy robes 
Of bliss — they weave the sacred bower of rose 
And myrtle shade, and shadowy verdant bay. 
And laurel, towering high ; and round their song, 
The pink and lily bring, and amaranth ; 
Narcissus sweet, and jessamine ; and bring 
The clustering vine, stooping with flower and fruit; 
The peach and orange, and the sparkling stream, 



"VTarbling with nectar to their lips unasked ; 
And talk the while of everlasting love. 

* * * * * 

Behold that other band, half lifted up 
Between the hill and dale, reclined beneath 
The shadow of impending rocks ; 'mong streams, 
And thundering waterfalls, and waving boughs, 
That band of countenance sublime and sweet, 
Whose eye with piercing intellectual ray, 
Now beams severe, or now bewildered seems ; 
Left rolling wild, or fixed in idle gaze ; 
While Fancy and the soul are far from home — 
These hold the pencil — art divine 1 and throw 
Before the eye remembered scenes of love ; 
Each picturing to each the hills, and skies, 
And treasured glories of the world he left ; 
Or gazing on the scenery of heaven, 
They dip their hand in color's native well, 
And on the everlasting canvas, dash 
Figures of glory, imagery divine, 
With grace and grandeur in perfection knit. 
* ^ * * ^ 

Nor now among the choral harps, in this 
The native clime of song, are those unknown, 
With higher note ascending, who, below, 
In holy ardor, aimed at lofty strains. 


Trne fame is neyer lost ; many, whose names 
Were honored much on Earth, are famons here 
For poetry, and with archangel harps, 
Hold no unequal rivalrj in song ; 
Leading the choirs of heaven, in numbers high, 
In numbers ever sweet and ever new. 
Behold them yonder, where the river pure 
Flows warbling down before the throne of Qod, 
And shading, on each side, the tree of life. 
Spreads its unfading boughs I see how they shine 
In garments white, quaffing deep draughts of love; 
And, harping on their harps, new harmonies, 
Preparing for the ear of God, Most High I 



)HAT I had been told by my conductor, 
I found good in a few moments ; for I 
was presently translated into the glorious 
mansions of the blessed ; ' and saw such 
things as it is impossible to represent, 
and heard that ravishing, melodious harmony that I 
can never utter ; well, therefore, might the beloved 
apostle St. John tell us in his epistle, " Now are we 
the sons of God ; and it does not yet appear what 
we shall be I" Whoever has not seen that glory, 
can speak but very imperfectly of it; and they 
that have, cannot tell the thousandth part of what • 
it is. 

When I was first brought near this glorious 
palace, I saw innumerable hosts of bright attend- 
ants, who welcomed me into that blissful seat of 
happiness, having in all their countenances an air 
of perfect joy, and of the highest satisfaction. 
And there I saw that perfect and unapproachable 
light that assimilates all things into its own nature ; 

272 niHOBTAL JOT. 

for even the souls of the glorified saints are trans- 
parent and diaj)hanou8. Keither are they enlight- 
ened by the sun, or any created luminaries ; but all 
that light tliat flows with so much transparent 
brightness throughout those heavenly mansions, is 
nothing else but emanations of the divine glory, in 
comparison of which the light of the sun is but 
darkness ; and all the lustre of the most sparkling 
diamonds, tlie fire of carbuncles, sapphires, and 
rubies, and the orient brightness of the richest 
pearls, are but dead coals in comparison to its 
glory ; and therefore called "The throne of the glory 
of God," wherein the radiant lustre of the Divine 
Majesty is revealed in the most illustrious manner. 
" It is the love of God, the ever-blessed Qod, 
my Epenetus," * said Junius, " that gives us this 
admission into heaven ; heaven is the bright seat of 
so much happiness, that we here scarcely count it 
amongst our joys that heaven is the seat of them. 
And here the excellency of the things that we pos- 
sess does as much disappoint our expectations, as, 
in fruitions in the world below, the emptiness is 
wont to do. For you have already heard the apos- 
tle tell us, ' eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither 

* Epenetua meets in the Regions of Glorj, his friend Junius, 
recently deceased, and also his mother. 


hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive 
the things which God hath prepared for them that 
love liim.' And now, my Epenetus, our experience 
tells us so; those pure refined delights that we 
enjoy, not only stoop not unto sense but are sub- 
lime enough even to transcend imagination. For 
whatsoever our fancy formed below, as the most 
perfect ideas and most abstracted notions of com- 
plete happiness, our own more happy experience of 
greater, plainly evince, come short of what we find. 
Heaven is a soil, whose fruitfiilness is so confined to 
joy, that even our disappointments and mistakes, 
when in the world below, do here contribute to our 
happiness, which does so much partake of His im- 
mensity, whose gift it is, that even the sacred 
oracles themselves give but a negative description 
of it ; and does not only remove our thoughts from 
all we enjoyed below but does exalt them above 
whatever we could fancy there. Nor will you 
wonder, Epenetus, that it should be so, if you will 
but consider, that here our faculties are not only 
gratified with suitable and acceptable objects, but 
are so heightened and enlarged, that our capacities 

are both increased and filled." 

The noble Junius having left me, I straight drew 
near the shining form that stood before me, who, 



compassed round with rays of dazzling lustre, 
appeared extremely glorious. I could hardly 
behold her for the exceeding brightness of her 
countenance, or else it seemed to me so, because I 
looked with more intenseness on her than on 
Elijah, or the noble Junius; but, taking it for 
granted it was my mother, I thus addressed her : 
" My dearest mother, I joy to see you clothed in 
that bright robe of glory, as an inhabitant of these 
blessed realms of light and immortality." 

" Dear Epenetus," said my mother to me, " for 
what I am, to Him that is on the throne, and to the 
Lamb, be all the praise and glory ; for He alone it 
is has made me so. This robe of glory which you 
see me wear, is only the reflection of His own 
bright beams! Ah, EpenetusI had not the blessed, 
forever blessed, redeeming Jesus, first clothed me 
with His robe of Righteousness, I never should have 
worn this robe of glory. I do not ask you, 
Epenetus, how you thus came to be admitted here ; 
I have had, already from Elijah, a full account of 
that; and must acknowledge the Divine conde- 
scension has been exceeding great in this permis- 
sion for which eternal praise be given to Him. Ah, 
Epenetus 1 through how many dangers does Divine 
Grace conduct our souls to glory ! I cannot think, 


but with the most admiring thoughts of Love 
Divine, how near I once was to eternal ruin I I 
once was poor, and blind, and naked; cast out 
unto the loathing of my person, and lay polluted in 
my filth and blood; but oh! the abundant grace 
that found me in that wretched, sad condition, and 
yet to me made it a time of love, ' washed me from 
my filthiness, and purged me from my sin I' I 
once was nothing else but darkness; but, oh, 
miraculous and happy change ! I now am full of 
light, and love, and joy : I once was poor and 
miserable, but now I am enriched with all that 
heaven can give or I receive : I once was naked 
and exposed to shame, but now I am adorned 
with robes of light and glory : I once was under sen- 
tence of eternal separation from the Divine Pres- 
ence, but now I am possessed of God, my only life 
and joy, and supreme good. Oh, how transporting 
is the comparison of these so wide and contrary 
extremes! And oh, how pleasant is the bright 
day of eternity, after a night so dark and so tem- 
pestuous ! How does a vivid sense of those past 
evils produce a far more lively feeling and fruition 
of my happiness ! This makes the everlasting hal- 
lelujahs, that I sing to my ' victorious Deliverer, 
more ravishing and more harmonious." 

Banyan's ** World tp Oome." 


^n Artist's JfmtotU t0 f im. 

** It is a hardf hard struggle to think of resigning mj belored 
Art, when I have only just begun to see its beauties. But not my 
will, but thine, be done, Lord I I humbly say." 

** Hamitton, the Yoang Artist** 

tAEEWELL, oh things of Time 1 
I know a fairer clime, 
Where garlands wither not, nor tempests 
lower ; — 
Where springs are ever pure, 
Where joys for aye endure, 
And where the spectre Death hath no more 

My life ebbs out apace, 

But Thy sustaining grace, 
Buoys me above the languor of decay ; — 

Serene I bide the hour. 

When by Thy mighty power, 
m soar into the realms of endless day. 

In quest of nobler spheres, 
Up from this vale of tears. 


I poise my pinions for the sounding flight : — 

Haste, then, run out life-sands ! 

Haste to dissolve, ye bands ; 
That bind me in the shades of nether night. 

In hoarse harmonious dirge. 

Life's solemn waters surge 
Upon the beach of Time with warning swell : 

I hear ye, voices deep — 

Ye murmur through my sleep, 
And o'er my waking moments wield your spell I 

The preludes of the skies. 

In wondrous melodies. 
Float oft upon the air when shut the flowers ; 

And with the tofies profound. 

Comes mingling the sweet sound 
Of voices heard of yore in boyhood's hours. 

Earth lures but to betray, 

I thrust its toys away, 
Lo, waiting Thy glad coming. Son of God I 

I pine for thee, dear home. 

When will the summons come 
That frees my soul exultant from this clod? 

Oh, hour of blest release ! 
Oh, hour of perfect peace ! 


When this heart shall cease to throb — ^these eyes to 

When grief and pain are o'er, 

When anguish wounds no more, 
Nor the spirit needs these weary vigils keep. 

Aweary is this life ; 

I, fevered in its strife, 
Do thirst to drink of founts that gush immortal ; 

Had I thy wings, thou dove 1 

With songs of fervid love, 
Fd plume my course to seek the golden portaL 

My worshipped Art, in thee 

I sought felicity ! 
And courted glory as the meed of toil ; 

1 reached to carve my name 

High on the shaft of Fame, 
Nor deemed stem TKme my honors could despoil. 

Fancy's deluded child, 

Oft, oft in dreamings wild, , 
Fve dipped my pencil in each rainbow hue ; 

The loveliest colors fade. 

By proudest genius laid, 
As fSsules the landscape 'neath the deepening blue. 


Ah, futile, vain endeavor ! 

This heavenly essence never 
Can rest content with less than food eternal ; 

Pictures and scenes divine, 

Through my rapt visions shine, 
And gleams of Art supreme — of skill supernal. 

In manhood's flush, I die, 

While summer flowerets lie 
Clugtered around my falt'ring step and slow ; 

Yet let no bitter tear 

Be shed above the bier 
Of one who then shall bliss celestial know. 

O God, my succor, stay I 

Thy will, I humbly pray, 
Not mme be done. These fluttering pulses calm : 

Ah, gently bow Thine ear. 

An earnest suppliant hear, 
And o'er a bruisM heart pour out Thy balm. 

Soul, to thy rest return! 

The Resurrection mom 
Dawns o'er the grave, and radiates its gloom ; — 

O Flesh, in hope rejoice ! 

Until th'archangel's voice 
Awake the slumbering dead, and burst the tomb I 
Augusta Bbowne Gabbsit. 


frinitj €\imts. 

S we entered the grand edifice, the chimes 
were ringing joyously the closing cadence 
of a lively air ; then, pausing a moment as 
if to gather fresh strength, they conmienced 
St. Michael's, and never had that truly 
Handelesque melody sounded more thriUingly 
sweet — ^it seemed a strain meet for angel lips. 

With their silvery soimds, came memories of one 
who had been my companion the last time I had 
hearkened to those Christmas bells, the young 
artist-brother, whose eyes the slumber of the grave 
now forever seals, and above whose pulseless heart 
the mound presses heavily ; and, amid the festal har- 
monies and songs which burst* forth from the organ- 
gallery, seemed mingling echoes of that undying 
anthem in which he was bearing part before the 
Throne of Jehovah, whose advent in human form 
we were then celebrating. What awakener of the 
soul is there like church music ! the recurrence of 
the Sabbath harmony is as the angel who came 


down at certain seasons to trouble the still waters 
of the pool Bethesda; for how, often, when dead, 
dead or torpid to every other influence, does a well- 
remembered sacred strain arouse the soul to sacred 
action ! As for me, under its sway the tide of years 
rushes back, and amid its surgings, many and 
many a note do I again catch from voices now sing- 
ing the angel's song. 

But the bells I the bells! than their exhilarating 
sweetness nothing can be more cheering ajid inspi- 
riting. Little marvel is it that the wonderful 
Dreamer represented the bells of the City as ring- 
ing to welcome the Pilgrims as they entered the 

Glorious Gate. 

Augusta Bbowne Garbett. 

** For Memor J ia immortal.'* 

^HAT mortal breathes not who cannot clahn 
affinity with denizens of other and mys- 
terious reakns; earth contains not the 
being who is not bound by links indissolu- 
ble to the inhabitants of the spirit-world. 
Oh, memories of the loved and severed! oh, 
shadowy mementoes of completed terrestrial exist- 
ences I how oft do you steal athwart us, saddening 
our gayest hours, and stifling our wildest merri- 
ment ! In vain do we call on them — ^the lost ones 
— at mom, at noon-day, in the hush of starry 
night ; in vain do we implore them for a token of 
recognition ; they answer not: even to the passion- 
ate pleadings of the most beloved, mute, mute, are 
they forever. 

Sitting alone amid the deepening hues of twi- 
light, musing with many a tear and many a sigh 



upon bygone scenes, "busy, meddling memory," 
with officious complaisance, draws aside a sombre 
curtain, and,, unveiling a dim cavern, beckons forth 
a shadowy throng, who, as they defile in life-like 
review before us, one after another reveal the 
familiar lineaments of dear ones transplanted to 
bloom beyond the stars. Not in the gloomy habili- 
ments of the charnel-house do they appear, but 
arrayed as in the buoyance and brilliancy of the 
best hours of life, ere carping care had gnawed at 
the heartstrings, or the blights of disappointments 
had dimmed the lustrous eye and blanched the 
cheek's roses. 

Foremost of the troop come dancing on to the 
sweet silver music of their own glee, the playmates 
of our innocent childhood. The little brother 
bounds by with a shout, eager in pursuit of a gilded 
butterfly ; the baby-sister's arms again encircle our 
necks, and her wealth of golden curls sweeps over 
our breasts, while in -accents of infantile sweetness 
she essays to lifip forth her love and trustfulness, 
and we are oblivious to the long, long years that 
have sped since that young brother and sister 
became playmates with angels, until recalled 
to the realities of the present by our blinding 


The departed I Next advanceB a gracefol grotrp 
of youthful forms, the choeen companions of that 
halcyon period when the heart revelled in sunny 
anticipations of hope and joy. Many of these were 
ardently loved — ^how varied have been their des- 
tinies I One, ^jrearied and travelngtained in Time's 
journey, laid him down to quiet slumber upon the 
burning sands of a far-off desert. An arrow from 
the quiver of the destroying angel pierced the 
bosom of another while wandering amid the radiant 
glories of Italy, A third, the enthusiastic son of 
romance and song, sought the classic soil of Greece, 
only to win for himself a grave among the melan- 
choly ruins of past ages — ^wUdly the bittern 
screams his dirge. A fourth kept tryste with death 
on the bosom of the mighty deep— o'er his sepul- 
chre the billows roar, in hoarse concert, a requiem. 
In an hour of fancied security, destruction bore 
down upon his ship. A day of placid beauty had 
closed in glorious sunset, which insensibly melted 
into that stilly sweetness, wherein, to our spiritual 
sense, the hymn of the stars is (fistinctly audible. 
At the customary hour the passengers retired to 
their berths, and were soon sunk in slumber, many 
of them to dream of dear ones at home, whom, 
alas 1 they were never to greet again in this world. 


Suddenly, at midnight, a tornado burst upon them 
in appalling fury. Shrouded were the heavens in 
blackness, and of the myriads of glittering stars 
which but a brief hour previous had gemmed the 
sapphire firmament, not a solitary one was now 
visible. The gallant vessel battled desperately 
with the tempest, but in vain; dismantled, and 
groaning in every timber, she was driven impetu- 
ously on the frowning rocks, and dashed into 
atoms ; and of the three score living souls who but 
that eye had trod the decks, exulting in the pro- 
spect of a speedy arrival in the desired haven, but 
two or three gained the shore. But the horrors of 
death have no power to conquer the immortal prin- 
ciple glowing within us — ^no power to quench the 
light of the spirit : above the lashing of the waves, 
the hoarse roars of the tempest, and the agonized 
shrieks of the perishing multitude, a manly voice 
was heard singing in untremulous tones : 

** Jesus, Saviour of my soul, 
Let me to thy bosom fly, 
While the nearer waters roll, 
While the tempest still is high. 
Hide me, oh ! my Saviour, hide I 
Till the storm of life is past — 
Safe into the haven guide. 
Oh, receive my soul at last P* 

286 "VDioKB nr TWDjairr. 

Could there be more perfect personal application 
of that unsurpassed hymn, or a more sublime 
requiem for a passing soul ? A vivid flash of light- 
ning illumined the ocean for a moment, and the 
singer was discovered clinging to a drifting frag- 
ment of the wreck. Thus, calm and undismayed, 
the poor fellow poured forth his triumphant death- 
chant, until his voice was lost amid the ingulfing 
billows, and his freed spirit, soaring over the 
boundary line of worlds, caught up the strain that 
is knQwn but in Paradise. The famed death-scene 
of Socrates, so much lauded as a model of heroism 
and sublimity, what comparison does it bear to a 
transit like this! Angels, doubtlei^, beheld the 
scene with admiration, and hailed his entrance into 
the Holy City with glad acclamations. 

These beloved ones are all with us once more ; 
and yet one other most beloved of any, the tender 
bosom-friend, the sincere sympathizer in all our 
manifold joys and griefs, and bound to our hearts 
by cords of affection which we fondly trusted were 
imsunderable. Nor, indeed, hoped we vainly, for 
although the object of our love be for a space 
removed above mortal ken, yet is his cherished 
memory hoarded up in the heart's holiest chamber, 
there to secretly bloom through life's darksome 


winter until we again greet him, in the vigor of 
celestial youth and intellect, in that blissful clime 
where his harp is tuned to the immortal harmonies 
of seraphs. Ah, beloved ! where thou dwellest, 

'* Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. 
May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, 
The parting word shall pass my lips no more I" 

The departed ! Here, with more measured tread, 
advance the associates of our riper years. They 
are but few, these friends of the period when the 
avenues to the heart began to be choked up by the 
rank weeds of suspicion and worldly prudence ; yet 
these few were well tried and truly prized. How 
oft, wh«i trembling on the verge of error, have 
their wise counsels guided us aright; and how 
often, when disquieted by grief, and dispirited by 
misfortunes and heart-bickerings, have the cordial 
grasps of their hands revived us, and their blessed 
words of encouragement cheered us on to renewed 
exertion 1 But they too, have passed on, and 
deeply indeed, do we feel our desolateness. 

Not one of this throng departed to the "pale 
realms of Shade '' without having bequeathed to us 
memories — ^thrilling reminiscences, like finger-posts 
planted throughout life's journey. Everything 

288 TisioifB m TwnjaHT. 

recalls the departed. A random look — a word — a 
tone, is often mighty to overthrow the self-imposed 
stoicism with which we have striven, long and pain- 
fully, to fortify omselves. The glimpse of a tiny 
plumed cap — ^the carelessly thrown aside plaything, 
may suddenly rend apart the closing wounds 
of the heart, and cause it to overflow with irrepress- 
ible yearnings for the cherub, to the patterings of 
whose busy feet, and the melody of whose frolic- 
some glee we may nevcM* never hearken more. The 
pet bird, who, missing the caressing hand of its ra- 
diant mistress, the hand that daily ministered to its 
wants, sits brooding in silence in its cage, invokes a 
poignant memory of the lost girl. The erewhile 
consonant flute and viol hang mute upon the wall, 
and never more shall their strains thrill to rapture 
the partial ear of affection I We gaze on the pic- 
ture until the canvas seems instinct with life, and 
once more we are beside the easel, watching the 
precious work as it grows beneath the skillful hand 
of the painter, and can scarce realize that that hand 
is now resolving into dust. 

We take up a favorite volume. At the name on 
the fly-leaf, tears gush out afresh — ^it is that of one 
beloved. The vibration of a chance note or chord 
may sweep over our spirits like the brush of an 


angel pinion, and awaken the remembrances of a 
thousand incidents and scenes — scenes of com- 
mingled rapture and melancholy. Whole histories 
. hang on a familiar strain, and the arrows and mis- 
fortunes of a weary pilgrimage may be wept over 
in a simple melody. And the flowers, gentle 
monitors, they too, in their bud, and bloom, and 
withering, remind us of the passed-away beauty of 
the dear ones whose grassy beds they adorn. 

A young maiden had assiduously watched a 
whole summer through for the flowering of a favor- 
ite bush — ^it was the Michaelmas Daisy. At length 
the blossoms appeared, delicate lilac stars, trem- 
bling in fragile loveliness ; but she, more fair than 
they, lay on her death-bed. Some of the earliest 
were gathered and presented to her, on which she 
affectionately strove, with her failing strength, to 
entwine them in the hair of the giver, who bent 
over* the pillow. Henceforth, therefore, that bush 
is a hallowed and lovely emblem of her who faded 
from earth in her opening spring. A bush of the 
same kind now grows at her feet in Greenwood. 
Thus it is that our memories, our hopes, our affec- 
tions, are inseparably linked with the departed. 
Nor would we have it otherwise. On all things 
terrestrial is written, "Passing away, passing 



away,*' and we trust soon to rejoin our friends in 
the better country, to part never, never more. In 
a quiet country churchyard in Vermont there is a 
monumental inscription, which, in its simple pathos, ' 
has a significant beauty. On a white marble spire 
is sculptured the image of a human hand, whose 
forefinger points upwards to the words " Passed 
on." Every tombstone should thus be made a 

The departed ! But now approach others of a 
very different class ; those who have done us cruel 
wrong ; who have dogged our footsteps with bitter 
relentless hate through every path of life ; who have 
driven the envenomed sting of ingratitude deep 
into the throbbing bosom's core; who have 
wounded us in our holiest and tenderest feelings ; 
and can we, nay, oiLght we, to forgive them ! They 
slowly pass with drooping forms and sad imploring 
eyes as if awaiting our fiat. Yes, by the sacred 
memories of the happy past, and as we ourselves 
hope to be absolved in the moment of our imminent 
need, do we heartily forgive them, trusting that 
they have already found mercy at the High Tri- 

The departed ! To bring the subject home ; — ^let 
us seriously consider that when the restless wheels 


of time shall have rolled on for a few more Buns, 
we onrselveB shall be of the silent multitude. 
Thought portentous and solemn, thought fearful yet 
sublime. Silence shall seal our lips, and darkness 
yeil our eyelids. The slumber of the grave shall 
rest upon us, and the pulses of these anxiously 
beating hearts be stilled forever. Storms shall 
howl, and tempests riot furiously above our narrow 
dwellings, and coming generations trample heed- 
lessly above our senseless ashes. The song — ^the 
revel — ^the dance, shall rush on thoughtlessly as 
ever, and we be forgotten. But what reck we if 
safely sheltered ? No, brothers, fellow-wayfarers ! 
we shrink not fiom the inevitable doom, for having 
Him for our refuge, sweet, peacefully sweet shall 
be that dreamless slumber, until broken by the 
high swelling Trump of the Archangel summoning 
quick and dead to judgment. There is a rarQ sub- 
limity in the dying words of the Rev. John Newton : 
" Hereafter, I hope, when I shut my eyes on the 
things of time, T shall open them in abetter world." 
Until that Great Day, when we, partakers, God 
grant, in the saint's resurrection, shall burst joy- 
fully the grave-clothes which bind us, and shaking 
off the dust and mould of the sepulchre, soar into a 
purer and brighter existence— the grave shall be a 


welcome reftige for the parched, weaiy pilgrim o'er 
l^e's Bands — a grateful resting-place for worn-out 

CM winds round it knelling, 
Misty showers swelling, 
€Mef and terror make their dwelling 
In the silent Grare. 

LoTely is the Graye : 
Soft doth that stiUness call, 
Oooler the shadows fall, 
Deepest Peace is whispering all 

In the qniet Grare. 

Dismal is the Graye : 
Irksome is that narrow wall ; 
Its breadth, and length, and depth, and height^ 
Just aeyen paces bonnd them aU. 

Dismal is the Graye. 

Loyely is the Graye : 
A sweet defence its narrowness, 
From the eyer-wearjing press, 
From the juggling pageant proud, 
From the fools in moUej crowd. 
Shields us well that narrow shroud. 

Loyelj is the Graye. 

Dismal is the Graye : 
Its darkness blacker than the night. 
Through which no sunbeam glanoes bright^ 


Not a Btftr may ever gleam, 
Or the softer moonlight stream ; 

Dark and dreadful is the Grave. 

Lovely is the Grave : 
Its shadow flinging 

0*er the weak wanderer, and refreshment bringing ; 
While its cool breast 
Lulls the hot, weary pilgrim to his rest. 

Lovely is the Grave. 

Fearful is the Grave: 
Bain is rushing, thunder growling, 
Driving hail, and winds are howling, 

Bound the stonn-lashed (>rave. 

Lovely is the Grave : 
O'er the turf d hillock spring winds blowing, 
Sweet at its foot the violets growing. 

And on it blooms Forget-me-not ; 
There falls the moon's pale beam, 
Hesper's cold rays, and morning's rosy gleam, 
While Echo's half-heard note 
And fdaintive wailings float 

Around the grass-grown spot. 
Lovely is the Grave. 

Lonely is the Grave : 
There all living sounds are mute, 
There is heard no wanderer's foot. 
Joyous greetings never come 
To visit that eternal gloom — 

Oht how lonely is the Gravel 

8M yjoasB in twiugbt. 

A je ! is the Qrave so looelj t 
Trae, Joy^s wild revel only, 
And Fdly^s laughing gUnot» 
And Riot*8 noisy dance, 

The J Tisit not the GraTe ; 
Bat the life-wearied Sage, and Sorrow's child, 
The Son of Song, will wander mild 
Beside the qniet grassy heap. 
And muse upon its secrets deepi 

Not lonely is the Orare. 

I is the Grave : 
Deaf and speechless, numbed and eold» 
Olothed alone in darksome mould, 
Hope^s glance of Hght, 
And Fancy*s risions bright 
And Loye's delight. 

Lost are they all within the senseless Grave. 
Fearful, fearful is the Grave t 

Lovely is the Grave : 
All the discord, all the strife. 
All the ceaseless feuds of liftB, 
Sleep in the quiet Grave. 
Hush'd is the battlers roar, 
The fire*8 rage is o^er. 
The wild volcano smokes no more — 
Deep peace is promised in the lasting Qrave. 

Lovely, lovely is the Grave !*' * 

* This wildly beautiful poem is translated from the German of 
Bosegarten, by whom I know not. It is to be regretted, however, 
that it is not more ennobled by a cheering hope of Immortality. 


Still sitting alone in the chamber window, 
absorbed in enchanting reverie in the visions of the 
past, the flight of time has been unheeded. The 
neutral tints of twilight have deepened into the 
decided hues of night. Stars, one by one, are 
revealing their luminous faces, that seem like 
watchful angel eyes ; the fire-fly, on glancing wijig, 
gambols through the freshened air; the breeze is 
burdened with perfume from the night-blooming 
cerus and evening primrose ; the cricket has com- 
menced its monotonous chirp; the whippoorwill 
his plaint, and the clock upon the mantel un- 
ceasingly iterates the incomprehensible word, 
E-ter-ni-ty ! — ^E-ter-ni-ty 1 

But now the jewelled curtain of night is spread 
over all things, the hour of reverie is closed, the hour 
most hallowed to those who love to hold converse 
with the beloved departed — and we, draped in 
darkness, arouse from communings with shadows to 
exclaim with heart-felt earnestness — 

**AIl on earth is shadow — all beyond, substance." 

Augusta Bbowne Garbett. 

$tlrmt8 in i^tarliglsl 

** Above, below, aerial mnrmun swell, 
From hanging wood, brown heath, and bushy deU! 
A thousand nameless rills, that shun the light. 
Stealing soft music on the ear of night." — ^Rogebs. 

) O full is all nature of muBic that if we go to 
a lonely spot and remain perfectly quiet, in 
the airy stillness we hear a sort of dreamy 
whispering" — a whispering, as it were, of 
the harps and Toices of the celestial com- 
pany at a great distance. To an attentive spirit 
this mysterious murmuring must ever be sugges- 
tive of fine imaginings ; of the sounds 

" Symphonious of ten thousand harps that tune 
Angelic harmonies." 

How often, while listening in the calm twilight, 
or in the hush of the starry midnight, to some 
distant pensive strain, now swelling, now sink- 
ing, now trembling into silence — do our spirits 
seem as if in converse with the disembodied! 


Then do we realize the truth of onr immortal 
nature, and rise superior to human passion ; — ^then 
it is, that angels hold communion with us, and not 
a sublunary care intrudes upon the sacred repose. 
At such moments earnestly do we echo the aspira- 
tion of the Psalmist, and long for the wings of 
the dove that we may fly away and be at rest 1 

" ! I am rapt aloft, my spirit soars 

Be jond the skies, and leaves the stars behind ; 

Lo ! angels lead me to the happy shores, 
And floating peans fill the buoyant wind; 

Farewell! base earth, farewell! my soul is freed 1*' 

If, during life, angels thus minister to us con- 
soling thoughts, may we not believe that around 
the couch of the departing child of God they mani- 
fest a deeper solicitude and chant their sweetest 
melodies unheard of any save the passing soul? 
A number of friends were once assembled in the 
chamber of one about to exchange mortality for 
life. He had walked through this world ever 
"looking up " with steadfast eye to the City that 
hath foundations, and therefore for him the sting 
of death had been drawn, the last enemy had been 
disarmed of his accustomed terrors. It was even- 
ing in summer-time, and the sun, ere, retiring to 

his bed of purple and gold, he disappeared bor 


neath the horizon, threw aslant the pillow a last 
roBj beam, as if in token of eternal farewell. 
Each was to rise again^ but amid scenes how di- 
verse! Attending angels must have bestowed 
upon the watchers a pretematoral sense of hearing, 
for, as the lingering flnsh paled and faded, the most 
entrancing melody was distinctly audible around 
the bed of the dying man. These celestial strains 
continued for the space of half an hour, when, with 
the radiance of immortality illumining his counte- 
nance, he fell asleep, 

" Till haply waked by Raphael's golden lyre 
To bear a part in eyerlasting lays.*' 

The ancients affirmed that the souls of the good 
were ushered into Elysium by strains of divinest 
harmony. Many persons have departed this sub- 
lunary scene with songs of joy quivering upon 
their pallid lips. A celebrated musician expired 
while singing one of his own superb sacred strains, 
as did Koscommon, in the utterance of two lines 
of his own version of " Dies Irae." Oh, unspeak- 
ably happy state ! where the gladness of approach- 
ing beatitude is thus potent to swallow up the 
pangs of nature's throes. But that song I tJia^ 
song which none may ever sing save those who 


have passed over the shining threshold ! may we 
b^ permitted to chant its fervid numbers in unison 
with those in whose quiet graves the music of our 
hearts lies buried I 

• ** A loftier strain, 

A deeper music ! something that may bear 
The spirit upon slow, yet mighty wings, 
UnswayM by gusts of earth : something all fiUM 
With solemn adoration, tearful prayer." 

Delighting in happiness, soothing in sorrow, and 
animating in the hour of death, yet never does 
music seem fuller of sweetness and tenderness than 
when discoursed around an open grave. It then 
seems to be consecrated to its highest purpose. It 
is indeed blissful to feel that, while the song of 
praise ascends to heaven for another of " Thy ser- 
vants departed this life in Thy faith and fear," 
that dear friend is already initiated into the New 
Song;, and as our Spirits, borne on the wings of 
the exultant harmony, soar higher and higher, 
until they near the pearly gates, we almost hear 
those erewhile familiar tones blending in the choral 
of the skies. 

Chrysostom says of tie early Christians : '' Tliey 
accompany the departed witn songs ; they call this 
an attendance, not a funeral." 


But yon dark cell imprisons the form we held 
most precious — ^the insensate mould presses heavily 
upon the heart which not long erst throbbed re- 
sponsive to ours ; were not a dirge more befitting 
the sepulchre of our fondest hopes and affections 
than a loftier strain? Kol That form beloved 
shall rise again to light and love in the morning of 
resurrection; "that mortal shall put on immor- 
tality." Therefore is the song one of serene hope. 
He effect produced on a person hearing, for the 
first time, this funeral singing, is electricaL Death, 
the stem monster, shorn of his horrors, assumes the 
guise of an enfranchising angel. In lieu of lower- 
ing gloom and darkness, the grave is enlivened by 
a ray of celestial brilliance; and, in place g£ 
the wail of despair, or the silence of unutterable 
agony, are heard the inspiring accents of a white- 
vestured seraph, exclaiming — " Se is not Kere^ he is 
risen /" 

The beautiful custom of singing at the grave is 
much practised among the Germans. Never can 
be obliterated the impression made upon me when 
first I witnessed one of their burial scenes, and 
heard a solemn old choral chanted in the Grerman 
tongue. Many a mile would I be willing to travel 
to list pnce more to such thrilling harmony; it 


sank into my soul until the intensity of pleasure 
bordered upon pain. Funeral singing, aceon^ 
panied by the tolling bell, is, or used to be, com- 
mon in the rural parts of England. Leigh Rich- 
mond, in the " Dairyman's Daughter," gives a beau- 
tiful description of a country funeral and the 
solemnizing effect of the hymn sung as the proces- 
sion woimd through the green hills and flowery 
dales towards the churchyard. It is a source of 
regret that the custom of thus hallowing obsequies 
by the use of music should not prevail among us ; 
among, at least, the more refined and religious por- 
tion of the community. It is not supposed that sing- 
ing would be practicable or even decorous in the 
noisy thoroughfares of the city, but around the grave, 
amid the sacred stillness of the cemetery, no such 
objection can possibly exist. Wordsworth thus 
beautifully describes the effect upon his mind of 
this species of melody : 

•* Prom yon crag, 
Down whose steep sides we drooped into the yale, 
We heard the hymn they sang — a solemn sound 
Heard anywhere, but in a place like this 
*Tis more than human ! Many precious rites 
And customs of our rural ancestry 
Are gone, or stealing from us ; this, I hope, 
Will last forever. Often have I stopped 

802 EBYBBiEs nr stablight. 

When OD my way — I oould not choose but stop. 

So much I felt the awfolnefls of Life — 

In that one moment when the corpse is lifted 

In silence, with a hush of decency, 

Then from the threshold moTes with song of peace, 

And confidential yearnings, to its home — 

Its final home on earth.*' 

The prevailing spirit of the world is preemi- 
nently utilitarian, to the detriment of all that is 
poetical, sacred, and which appeals to the holier 
and better sensibilities of our nature^ The finest 
emotions of the soul are stifled beneath the rubbish 
of mere temporalities. In no case is the lack of 
poetic sentiment more frequently evident than in 
the burial of the dead. It is not sufficiently 
invested with sacredness, it savors too much of the 
hurried, bustling spirit of the world. Not that it 
would be desirable to revive any of the gloomy 
austerities of ancient feudal pomp as connected with 
the return of dust to dust : the ostentatious lying 
in state — ^the emblazoned, draped escutcheon with 
its awful garniture of death's-head and cross-bones, 
displayed on the house-front — ^the lugubrious mutes 
— the gloomy procession, disturbing at midnight 
with torch-glare, the boding silence and darkness 
of the low-browed, misty tomb; — ^not so; away 
with these horrors f Let not death be arrayed in 


artificial terrors ; rather let a halo of glor j encircle 
his presence, radiating light all around. Hope 
knows no night. It is a significant expression of 
Saint Augustine, " the morning of the resurrection." 
The dying request made by Professor Caldwell of 
his wife, is peculiarly touching and beautiful: 
"When you visit the spot where I lie, do not 
choose a sad and mournful time ; do not go in the 
shade of evening, or in the dark of night. These 
are no times to visit the grave of one who hopes 
and trusts in a risen Redeemer ; but come in the 
morning, in the bright sunshine, and when the birds 
are singing." 

Death is a solemn lesson intended to tell home to 
the hearts of the living — sl presage, or rather a re- 
minder to each one, that also to him draweth nigh 
the hour when thus " shall his dust return to the 
earth as it was ; and the spirit shall return imto 
God who gave it ;" and, therefore, every eflfort in 
the spirit of simple piety, should be made to deepen 
its impressions, ever, alas I too evanescent. For 
this purpose, music is a powerful talisman. A 
funeral hymn heard at the burial of a dear com- 
panion, who could ever forget ? 

A noble psalm, chanted fervently by a funeral 
cortege from the summit of a sun-kissed mount, or 

SOi JutvjuoaH nr stablioht. 

midfit the drooping foliage of a sequestered glen in 
our picturesquely beautiful Greenwood, would 
indeed be an anthem well worthy the listening — ^it 
would be, to a soul imbued with a sense of the 
lovely, the holy, the instructiTe, sublimity of the 
highest order. 

** God! our help in ages past, 
Our hope for years to come ; 
Our shelter from the stormy blast, 
And our eternal home,** 

united with Christmas, or Dundee, pouring forth 
from the romantic precincts of Sylvan Water ; from 
some shadowy dell scarce ever visited by Sol's 
faintest ray; from the brow of Ocean Hill, or 
from the mouth of one of the stately mausolea 
so numerously disposed throughout that City of 
the Silent, would indeed be magnificently impres- 
sive. Methinks, after such enchanting minstrelsy, 
many a heartHStricken mourner would return to 
his desolated hearth, with soul more beneficially 
chastened, and desires and resolves more spiritual- 
ized, and many a ^thoughtless loiterer, heedless of 
eternity and its all-important issues, receive teach- 
ings of inestimable value ; for at no other time is 
the mind in so favorable a frame to entertdn sen- 


one thouglitB as when in the immediate presence of 

The burial service of the Episcopal Chnrch, 
when fitly solemnized and accompanied by suit- 
able music, has for me an intenser sublimity and 
grandeur than could be derived from any other 
source whatever. Not the finest concert to which 
I have ever listened had power to impart to me 
such complete pleasure. It exalts the soul from 
earth and far beyond the vanities of time. Sur- 
rounded by such elevating influences, who, illu- 
mined by the light of the Gospel faith, would 
suffer his imagination to grovel 

** 'Mid skulls and coffins, epitaphs and worms ?" 

Nay, rather, O wounded and despairing soul I turn 
thy weeping eyes heavenward, and there, in the 
glowing east, behold the Sun of Righteousness 
emerging in effulgent majesty from the thrall of 
nature's blackness, and hearken to a voice proclaim* 
ing, in tones of incomparable sweetness : — " I am 


HE LIVE : And whosoeveb liveth and believeth 


Jean Paul Bichter thus finely defines the grave : 


^The grave is not dark; it is the shining foot* 
steps of an angel that calls us. When the un- 
known hand hath sent the last arrow to the head 
of man, he bows before it ; and the arrow removes 
the crown of thorns from his wounds." Therefore, 
let us — trusters in a bright eternity — ^we, who cher- 
ish the unwavering hope that, when the light of 
earth is fading from our mortal vision, the radiance 
of that City that needs no sun shall be dawning 
upon us; and that, when the ear shall become 
insensible to the sweetest, of earth-bom tones, 
voices and symphonies celestial shall greet our 
ascending spirits — ^let us, with hymns of faith and 
holy submission, commit the bodies of our departed 
to the ground — " eartli to earth — ashes to ashes — 
dust to dust" — ^looking for the day of universal 
resurrection, when they shall arise, purified from 
every taint of corruption, to be forever with the 

^ Nor let the motives for advocating this beautiful 
practice be misconstrued ; let it not be thought that 
a desire to imitate the dreary philosophy of that 
nation of old, who, impressed with the hoUowness 
and transitoriness of terrestrial bliss, and having, 
moreover, no cheering knowledge of a state of fu- 
ture and permanent blessedness, wept above the 

mfent cradle wid laughed over the new-made grave 
is ours : — ^neither let it be thought that we would 
indulge in the solemn mockery of masses for the 
dead-^being assured in the Holy Scriptures that 
where the tree falls there shall it lie;— or in 
moumfal requiems that breathe but the wailings 
of anguish and the pleadings of unavailing passion. 
No ; from a purer, a higher source emanates our 
consolation. As Christians we learn to view the 
sepulchre as a quiet, blossom-begirt couch, wherein 
may calmly slumber off his fatigue, life's weary 
pilgrim, while awaiting the consummation of all 
things temporal. Thus, with strains of solemn, 
tender music, would we compose our friends to 
their silent rest, thus hallow their tranquil slum- 
bers, and thus deepen within our own bosoms, 
sacred impressions. 

Flint, in his " Recollections of the Valley of the 
Mississippi," thus describes a German funeral 
which he witnessed : " I attended a funel'al where 
there were a number of German settlers present. 
After I had performed such service as is usual on 
similar occasions, a most venerable-looking old 
man came forward, and asked me if I were willing 
that they should perform some of their peculiar 
rites. He opened a very ancient version of Lu- 

808 beybbus in stabught. 

ther'B HjmnB, and thej all begaa to cdng in Ger- 
man, 80 loud that the woods echoed the strain. 
There was something affecting in the singing of 
these ancient people carrying one of their brethren 
to his last home, and using the language and rites 
which thej had brought with them over the sea 
from the Vaterlandy a word which often occurred 
in the hymn. It was a long, slow, and mournful 
air, which they sang, as they bore the body along ; 
the words ^Mein Qott^ ^Mein Brudefr^ and * Yat&r- 
l(md^ died away in distant echoes amongst the 
woods. I shall long remember that funeral hymn !" 

<« The * Fatherland /*— with that sweet word 
A bunt of tears 'midst the strain was heard. 
* Brother! were we there with thee 

Rich would many a meeting be ! 

Many a broken garhind bound, 

Many a mourned and lost one found I 

But our task is still to bear, 

Still to breathe in changeful air ; 

Lored and bright things to resign, 

As eren now this dust of thine ; 

Tet to hope t — to hope in Hearen, 

Though flowers fall, and ties be riyen— 

Tet to pray ! and wait the hand 

Beckoning from the Fatherland !' 
And the requiem died in the forest gloom ;«- 
They had reached the Exile^s lonely tomb I** 

Augusta Bbowne Gabbett. 

^ And other days come back to me 
With recollected music, though the tone 
Is changed and solemn, like the cloudy groao^ 
Of dying thunder on the distant wind." 

!)N order to ennoble and exalt the soul, the 
Creator imbued it with the love of music as 
a part of its vital essence ; and thus many a 
heart is fiill of melody, as if joybells within 
it were chiming a ceaseless jnbilate, which is 
incapable, or, it may be, nndesirous of giving it in- 
telligible utterance. The true oflSce of the sci- 
ence of sweet sounds is to elevate our aspirations 
and thoughts to Paradise, from whence it emanates, 
where all is harmony ; where the crystal streams, 
as they ripple through the greeji pastures, murmur 
praises, and the lowliest flowerets, when brushed 
by angel garments, breathe songs of adoration. 
Music is the language of immortality — the intima- 
tor of our heavenly destination, ever arousing 
within our souls, by its solemn monitory voicings, 


810 8PBIN08 OF A8800IATIOK. 

unquiet, restless longings after an indefinable some- 
thing, wliich, although ever invisible and elusive, 
we are jet confident exists. It suggests a thousand 
hints of a preexistent state of being ; and while 
captive to its profound spell, glimpses of a dim, 
half-obliterated past, fiit before us, and visions of 
imearthlj loveliness — until, oblivious to the reali- 
ties of the present, we pant to cast off our cumber- 
some day habiliments, and speed away to search 
into the mysteries that so encompass us, and mingle 
in communion with superior intelligences. While 
struggling under such infiuences, how oft, from the 
depths of the heart, arises the earnest inquiry, "Tell 
us, ah ! tell us why, and to what end are we here, 
exiles from the Home of our Father?" Though 
enchanted and subdued by its powers, Richter must 
have hearkened unto music with a but half- 
awakened spirit when he exclaimed : " Away ! 
away ! thou speakest to me of things which in all 
mine endless life I have found not, and shall not 

No I he found them not here below ; the thirst 
awakened by the murmurings of the Water of Life, 
may not be slaked until we arrive at its margin. 

There is a magic in old psalm-tunes, which a 
frivolous mind can neither comprehend nor appro- 


ciate, and to which, consequently, it must always be 
irresponsive; but it is a magic, which, to the 
thoughtful, serious mind, is sweeter and more in- 
tensely eloquent, than any other whatever. As the 
familiar strain rolls resonantly along the gothic 
arches of the dim cathedral, the aged worshipper, 
forgetful of the sacred magnificence surrounding 
him, is transported back to the simple village 
church of his boyhood's Sabbath, and lists once 
more to the dear voices that were wont to ascend 
with his in this very melody ; and, as the cadence 
dissolves, floating away in aerial symphonies, his 
heart follows on, glowing in the assurance that, ere 
long, he too, shall join in the far more exultant lays 
that now flow from their lips. In the tears, there- 
fore, springing so fast to his eyes, there is no bitter- 
ness — they are dewdrops of hope. 

To such a one music is an unfailing resource of 
pure unalloyed gratification. The delicate thread, 
which, at his birth attached him to the Throne of 
God, has never been rudely sundered ; and now, as 
in the winding hand of the Angel of Time, it is 
gradually shortening, drawing him to his Home, he 
becomes more and more alive to the vibratory 
pulses of the celestial harmonies, until, on his com- 
plete absorption into the true and excellent Life, 


thej burst upon hie raptured soul in full magnifi- 

** There is an hour of deep repose, 
That yet apon my heart shall close, 
When all that nature dreads or knoFB 
Shall burst upon me wondrously. 
Oh I may I then awake forerer, 
My harp to rapture^s high endearor, 
And as from earth's Tain scenes I sever, 
Be lost in immortality t^ 

That the associations of sacred music are thus 
especially hallowing is attributable to the reason 
that they belong to our holier moments — ^that they 
are connected with seasons spent in the church — ^in 
social concmiunion — and in the mysterious transi- 
tion-chamber, where, from lips pallid and quivering, 
faltered the swan-like song of triumph that pro- 
claimed the victory won, the mighty goal gained. 
A remembrance of this latter nature surrounds 
even the simplest and plainest air with a nimbus 
of irradiating beauty. 

ft was during the first deep blackness of one of those 
bitter storms of life which sweep with whirlwind vio- 
lence over the heart, crushing every hope into dust, 
and smiting it with sudden paralysis, that a strain 
of music was indelibly, impressed on my mind 


throTigli the medium of a street organ. The pro- 
prietor of one of these despised instruments, hav- 
ing stationed himself opposite the door of the house 
where I was, commenced discoursing his harmo- 
nious numbers. Had the result of his efforts been 
a popular melody or dance tune, it is probable that 
not the slightest attention would hare been 
attracted : but it was a psalm-tune — ^the familiar 
one, St. Ephraim's — which, although previously 
rather an antipathy of mine than otherwise, now 
sounded so sympathizingly sad, so burdened with 
tender pathos, that it seemed beautiful and affecting 
above anything I had ever listened to before. It 
was as a song of hope to despair — ^like a silver-edge 
to that terrible thunder-cloud ; and beloved com- 
mensurably ever since it has been for the ray of 
light then darted. 

Who knows not the beautiful old "Easter 
Hymn," with its winding refrain of Hallelujah at 
the end of each musical phrase, so sweetly quaint 
in its melody? As suits its occasion, it is exceed- 
ingly glad and jubilant in mood, and would not 
seem calcidated to impress with melancholy any 
heart; yet, withal, to me it embodies the very 
essence of grief and despairing love. And why 
this contrary effect? Because it calls to remem. 


814 6PBIVGB or A8800IA.TION. 

brance a tragedy of early childhood, a sorrowful 
story of bereavement, which lades every note with 
the sigh of a breaking heart It speaks in thrill- 
ing tones of the noble young brother of eighteen 
snmmers, and the fair little sister of six, the only 
children of an officer in the army — ^who, going out 
together one day to walk on the river, which an un- 
usually severe winter had frozen over to a great 
distance, perished from the cold. It tells how, 
after the parental hearts had watched and waited in 
vain, during two weary days and nights, for their 
return, they were at length borne home to the 
desolated hearthstone from the couch of ice where 
they lay dead in each other's arms ; the boy having 
deprived himself of nearly all his garments, even 
to his stockings, to protect the more tender little 
one; and it pictures vividly that long, winding, 
mournful funeral procession, slow pacing to this 
yerj strain, which soon after accomipanied the 
heart-broken father to the house appointed for all 
living. *E[ence the moumfulness of the tune to me 
while to others it is joyous : it is all in association. 
Associations furnish the real charm of every- 
thing ; and even when, through expediency, or a 
conviction of its excellence, we are induced to 
adopt and embrace a fresh object, our first care 


ever is, before we can jdeld 'it cordial love or rev- 
erence, to cluster around it a group of accessories, 
or secondary influences, else our jewel is useless 
— ^it is without a mounting. 

Do you wish to subject an untried heart to an 
ordeal of faith and love ? Mark, then, that heart, 
how it retains and treasures up the recollections 
of early tendernesses, of by-gone years ; mark well 
how it hoards up the memorials of former days, — 
relics inseparably linked with spirit-loves ; for be 
assured that one faithful to the memory of the de- 
parted, will be no less loyal to the affection of the 
living. The preservation of a lock of hair— of a 
withered flower — of a scrap of an old letter — of 
even the minutest atom, often discloses, more 
plainly than could volumes, the existence of a 
heart»history, perchance marvellously touching in 
devotedness and romance. In the highest class of 
mementoes axe old strains of music; and cold, 
light-of-love, and utterly barren must that heart 
be, which throbs not at the recurrence of some 
simple cradle-song, some dear strain of youth. 
The bosom that owns no such gentle sway, is 
incapable of entertaining or reciprocating a single 
emotion of sincere fervent love. Beware of that 
heart ! it is, notwithstanding all protestations to the 


contrary, perfidious and frigid. Beware of in- 
trusting to its tender mercies your smallest interest, 
for if you do, so surely will it betray them. 

The human heart craves occupance, it will not, 
cannot remain an empty void. So, if it be not 
filled with fragrant blossoms and fruits, it assuredly 
will be with noisome weeds and brambles. It must 
have somewhat to bestow love upon, — some recipi- 
ent of its ever out-flowing sympathies ; and the ob- 
ject, when once chosen, heedless, whether in the view 
of others, it seem worthy or unworthy, it will pro- 
ceed to invest with attributes so excelling and hues 
80 resplendent, as befit the idol of the spirit shrine. 

Isolation is repugnant to the soul — a direct vio- 
lence to its nature ; and from the moment that it 
draws in its anchor, and relinquishes a hold upon 
some object, however trivial, it drifts surely and 
rapidly adown towards the breakers of desolation 
and wreck. That is a pretty story of the noble 
Italian prisoner, who, pining in the solitude of his 
dungeon for companionship, chanced, one day, to 
discover, insinuating its way through the stones 
outside his prison door, an insignificant, fragile 
weed. Delighted beyond measure at obtaining an 
object on which he might lavish his care, the cap- 
tive watched over his treasure with a love so trem- 


bling and engrossing, that it would have appeared 
extravagant if applied to a human creature. But 
the weed Picciola " was not all a weed'*^ — it was a 
link of association with that world from which he 
was so entirely secluded, and an instrument that 
revived a host of memories smouldering into ashes 
at the root of his heart. 

In this manner an old music book may become, 
nay, is^ an invaluable record — a collection of thrill- 
ing incidents^a chronicle of departed scenes, — 
or a mirror of the past, magical as was that 
famed one of old, into which, with irrepressible 
longings to behold once again his lost child swell- 
ing within his breast, gazed, of pilgrims the chief, 
the wandering Jew. Every one of such venerable 
volumes is so sacred and fraught with interest, 
that I would fain have it treated with a reverence 
not to be awarded to the most sublime and magni- 
ficent ebullition of wnassociated modern genius. 

I have a flock of juvenile melodies and strains 
which, despite all that I can do, will keep per- 
petually floating about in my mind. 'Tis but vain 
that I argue with myself on the folly of giving 
them quarters and free range through the cham- 
bers of my brain, and seek, forthwith, to put them 
to ignominious flight, by a flourish of trumpets 


from advancing rivals, or crush them beneath the 
weight of more pretentious modem achievements. 
In vain : all will not do ; eftsoons, the rogues re- 
turn, not a whit daunted, and, ere long, I feel 
them nestling warm to my heart, as of yore. 
Aye, there cling, little humble weeds, though ye 
be ! soft and loving are your associations and no 
more will 1 blush at your ascendency. 

Not unfrequently do I marvel much at the 
stolidity of persons to whom I am playing some- 
thing which 1 regard as exceedingly beautiful and 
grand, and of which I am especially choice as one 
of my early loves ; and grieved at the utter lack of 
sympathy manifested, am tempted to conclude that 
they have not souls attuned to the concord of sweet 
sounds. On reflection, however, I bethink me that 
the asso' lations that attach me to the piece, can 
have no possible charm for those who are unawares 
even of their existence. Probably the mutual as- 
sociation of ideas is the strongest link which binds 
and draws together old friends, — it is more powerful 
than any other. What an exquisite felicity is it to 
possess far-off memories in common with another ; 
to share childhood's sweet memories — ^youth's 
romantic memories — ^manhood's thoughtful memo- 
ries, with a kindred heart ! Companionship in joy 


or Borrow, in peril or peace, must needs endear peo- 
ple to each other. Thus does the old man nionm 
the loss of his friend as no yonng one may do ; for 
youth is rich in time, and time produces fresh blos- 
soms and fruit. 

My musical library is to me a chronological 
chart — ^unintelligible, it is true, to others — ^but by 
no means, therefore, of an exclusively personal 
nature, or devoted to exclusively personal interests, 
for those of many, many others are blent with it. 
Little historiettes and adventures there are affixed 
to a hundred pieces of mnsic — I could not banish 
them if I would. Indeed, there is scarce a solitary 
page that 1 have played familiarly from infancy, un- 
Bupplied with one — scarce a page that does not 
marshal before memory's vision, with the freshness 
of reality, some peculiar action, mood, or dawning 
sensation. Many of these associations, it may not 
be denied, are passing mournful, ever claiming the 
tribute of tears : but better is it to remember and 
weep, than to forget and be happy. 

Now, here is a well fingered page, sadly torn and 
defaced ; but for all that, the whole space, f5rom top 
to bottom, seems to beam with one great broad 
smile — ^the identical smile that shone over it on a 
eomic occurrence ^ long, long ago.'' Another page 

820 sPBnros ov assooiahon. 

18 precious, because, at that cramp, chromatic run, 
sprang up in my mind the germ of a new thought 
to be developed into a future musical composition ; 
and another, because, in that cruelly hard stave of 
complicated modulations, a new step up the Hill 
Difficulty was mastered. This page is beloved, 
because while .playing it, some joyful tidings were 
communicated ; and that other, because a pleasant, 
cheering voice commended the young performer; 

Dear friend, handle tenderly — with more of rev- 
erence, that infirm-looking tome with the faded 
marbled cover; — ah, tenderly — ^it is no common 
book, it is anointed with the holiest dews of the 
soul's remembrances — ^its associations are with the 
beloved ones whose homes are now in the invisible 
land of glory ! — ^with those whose love can never, 
nevermore change. Sweet peace to their memo- 

** The lore where death has set his seal, 
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal, 

Nor falsehood disavow.** 

Here is a favorite old ballad that, strange to say, 
effects a momentary resurrection ; for, no sooner do 
I begin the prelude, than a lithe, youthful form 
springs to my side, and, shaking the ashes of the 


grave from his hair, and broad fair brow, joins,, with 
the sweet ringing tones of yore, in the well remem 
bered strain. Ah, yes; and yet another page is 
before me — a duet ; but one of the singers, where 
is he ? bearing part with the angels in the song that 
gladdens Paradise! His dying whisper, sweeter 
than was ever melody of earth in its expressions of 
heavenly hope and joy, lingers ever on mine eaV. 
And still another page opens ; dear fair-haired, vio- 
let-eyed E , since thy delicate hands discoursed 

this lesson, the angels have taught thee more exalted 
harmonies. Haydn's " How Beautiful Appear I" 
the one who loved this beautiful air — ^but be 
hushed, moaning heart! acquiesce with trustful 
submission to thine and his Heavenly Father's 
will! I close now the book; tears outnumber 
smiles wherever I open ; and tears, the dew of the 
heart, are not for the garish light, but to be shed in 
the solitude of deepening shadows. In a few of my 
own,"" I have portrayed the feelings of many. 
Every genuine lover of music assimilates in mind 
and fancy. 

It has frequently been conjectured that one of 
the employments of the Blessed in Heaven ^vill 
consist in recalling old associations — ^in reminis- 
cences of their terrestrial life, and in reviewing and 



contrasting the diversified trials, joys, sorrows, and 
mercies that interspersed their Homeward road. 
God grant us a joyful meeting with all our beloved 
ones in His own Pleasant Land 1 

AuouBTA Bbowne Gabbetf. 

This favorite heart-uplifting hymn, it is perhaps not generalljr 
known, waft written by an old sacred writer, between two hun- 
dred and fifty and three hundred years ago. It was discovered in 
a volume of manuscript poems in the British Museum, as old as the • 
reign of James the First; and may itself be of much -earlier 
origin. A recent writer even professes to trace it back to St. 


) EETJS ALEM ! my happy home ! 
When shall I come to thee, 
When shall my sorrows have an end, 
Thy joys when shall I see ? 

Oh, happy harbor of the saints ! 

Oh, sweet and pleasant soil 1 
In thee no sorrow may be found, 

No grief, no care, no toil. 

In thee no sickness may be seen 

No hurt, no ache, no sore ; 
There is no death, no ugly deil 

There's life forevermore. 


Ko dampish mist is seen in thee, 
No cold nor darksome night ; 

There every soul shines as the snn, 
There God himself gives light. 

There lust and lucre cannot dwell, 
Tliere envy bears no sway, 

There is no hunger, heat nor cold. 
But pleasure every way. 

Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 

God grant I once may see 
Thy endless joys, and of the same. 

Partaker aye to be. 

Thy walls are made of precious stones. 
Thy bulwarks diamonds square, 

Thy gates are of right orient pearl, 
Exceeding rich and rare. 

Thy turrets and thy pinnacles 
With carbuncles do shine, 

Thy very streets are paved with gold, 
Surpassing clear and fine. 

Thy houses are of ivory, 
Thy windows crystal clear. 

Thy tiles are made of beaten gold ; 
O God, that I were there f 


Within thy gates no thing doth come 

That is not passing clean — 
No spider's web, no dirt, no dust, 

No filth may there be seen. 

Ah, my sweet home, Jerusalem 1 

"Would God I were in thee, 
Would God my woes were at an end, 

Thy joys that I might see. 

Thy saints are crowned with glory great, 

They see God face to face, 
They triumph still, they still rejoice, 

Most happy is their case. 

We that are here in banishment 

Continually do moan ; 
We sigh and sob, we weep and wail, 

Perpetually we groan. 

Our sweet is mixed with bitter gall, 

Our pleasure is but pain. 
Our joys scarce last the looking on. 

Our sorrows still remain. 

But there they live in such delight, 
Such pleasure and such play. 

As that to them a thousand years 
Doth seem as yesterday. 

896 JEB1T6ALS1C 

Thy vineyards and thy orchards are 

Most beantiful and fair, 
Full famished with trees and fruits, 

Most wonderful and rare. 

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks 

Continually are green : 
There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers 

As nowhere else are seen. 

There's nectar and ambrosia made, 
There's musk and civet sweet, 

There many a fair and dainty drug 
Are trodden under feet. 

There cinnamon, there sugar grows, 
There nard and balm abound, 

What tongue can tell, or heart concei^ce 
The joys that there are found ? 

Quite through the streets, with silver sound, 

The flood of life doth flow. 
Upon whose banks, on every side. 

The wood of life doth grow. 

There trees foreverraore bear fruit. 

And evermore do spring ; 
There evermore the angels sit 

And evermore do sing. 


There David stands with harp in hand, 

As master of the choir, 
Ten thousand times that man were blest 

That might this music hear. 

Our lady sings Magnificat^ 

With tune surpassing sweet. 
And all the virgins bear their parts, 

Sitting above her feet. 

Te Deum doth Saint Ambrose sing. 

Saint Austin doth the like ; 
Old Simeon and Zachary 

Have not their song to seek. . 

There Magdalene hath left her moan, 

And cheerfully doth sing, 
With blessed saints, whose harmony 

In every street doth ring. 

Jerusalem ! my happy home ! 

Would God I were in thee. 
Would God my woes were at an end, 

Thy joys that I might see. 

€tm, fflri iMtts! 

)HIS, however, we know — that when once 
the signal for our departure is given, our 
emancipated spirits shall cleave the air,^a8 
Christ and Elijah did; passing through 
the first heaven, the earth, its sinful abode, 
shall dwindle into nothing behind us. The second 
heaven, also, with its planets, suns, and systems, 
stretching far beyond the reach of human thought, 
will soon fade back into dim space. Now, the 
third heaven will stretch before us, onward and 
upward, its external plains ! Faint and far before, 
but drawing nearer and nearer, appears the Holy 
City: soon its twelve shining foundations, from 
which the battlements of blazing jasper tower 
upwards, are scaled, — ^the portals of light are 
crossed — and njDW to the soul's enraptured gaze the 
Heaven of heavens stretches broader and higher 
its boundless realms, through uncreated light ! 
Amen — ^Hallelujah 1 Come, Loed Jesus, comb 


Eev. H. Habbaugh. 





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REC'D tjP 

DEC 9t9&7 


MAYS 1961 

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SEP 111961 

JUN9 '61 T v<i=.C'D 

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